1810
by xiiluvyuhhx
Summary: Isabella Swan, princess of France, is the care-free, fun-loving girl. Prince Edward Cullen of England never knew much of life besides the law. When Princess Isabella bumps into him while on the run from her own wedding, these two are in for an adventure.
1. Chapter One

BPOV

"Isabella," barked Samantha. "Get up, now!" She strode to my windows and ripped the curtains open, revealing the bright light of Paris, France.

I groaned, flopping onto my other side. Samantha would have none of that. I heard her angry huff as she walked briskly to the foot of my bed, and I felt the tug of her hands as they fisted over my cover; she yanked. The chill of the sudden change of temperature busted through me like a pellet, momentarily freezing up the part of my brain that controlled rational responses. I shot up into a sitting position, shrieking curse words in French.

Samantha looked flabbergasted. "Isabella," she chastised. "Princesses should not behave so! Whatever is the matter with you this morning?"

"Princess, shimchess," I grumbled, sinking back into a sleepy reverie.

Samantha sighed heavily. "Your dress is on the chair, and breakfast is about to be served in the parlor. Get a move on!" And then she bustled out the door.

I moaned and heaved myself up off the bed. This was the one thing I hated about my parents being the rulers of the country: having to wake up early every morning for reasons I could not comprehend. But Mother says that every princess has to do it as well, so I usually grin and bear it.

I knew that there are thousands of girls and women around the world who want to be in my place. I knew what all the peasants said about me. Miss Isabella Swan, the beautiful, fun-loving princess of France. Daughter of King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee, sister to the next heir, Emmett Swan… set to be wed with Prince Jacob Black of Belgium, believed to be one of the most admired princesses of all history… I'd heard all of it before.

Sighing, I straightened my nightgown and sauntered to clean up for the rest of the day. Once I was finished, I looked at myself in the grazed mirror. I twirled my mahogany hair into a spiraled bun, as normal. It was uncommon for a woman of such high class to wear her hair down – but of course, who was I, Princess Isabella, not to bend the rules? I was acknowledged around the globe for curving the directions.

When I walked back to my room, Samantha was waiting for me. Next to her sat a long, pastel blue gown with a silken ribbon that seemed to wrap around the bodice. On the desk sat my corset.

I balked, and Samantha chuckled. I walked closer, sucking in my breath as I do so that she could lace the corset around my stomach. This was ritual, I was used to it.

Samantha Fitzgerald was my main servant, and also one of my closest companions. She didn't really treat me like a princess, like all the other workers seemed to. Samantha considered me like a girl, even allowing me to call her Sam. She was also one of the only people who would call me by my preferred name, Bella, but only when we were alone. Father becomes furious when I act too casual in public.

My breath was briefly taken from my lungs as the corset was tightened, but it returned soon enough. I spluttered incoherent phrases in French, listening to Samantha hum a tune under her breath, and then returned to my thoughts.

Samantha was almost the same person as I. We both were eighteen years of age, enjoyed being outside, and oftentimes when we were alone, we crowed about handsome figures and all of the lovely dresses. And we disliked directions, growing up fiercely independent. Although I did have the luxury of being raised in the highest class rank, I'd had little say in what went on around me. Women in my time hardly had any rights at all. We were not allowed to hold government jobs; we could not own property or have any say in the goings-on whatsoever. Lower class women were not even permitted to leave their own home without a man present! And I, being extraordinarily hard-headed and stubborn, especially for a princess, demanded that father changed this. When I'd told him, he'd chuckled and boomed, "Trust me, sweet one, the woman in the family has much more power over the man than you can possibly imagine."

Father was a very cryptic person. I still on no account understand half of what Father says, especially when he goes to discuss law with the other men. But he's been in office for over thirty years and no rebellion, so I presumed that he was an exceptional ruler.

Samantha tugged on the corset laces one last time and puffed. I heard her clattering around behind me, and then the light blue gown was being yanked over my head. Once it was on, Samantha tied the trimming in the back. She swiftly grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, checking to make sure the dress fit right.

"Sam," I said while she pulled on various corners of the dress, smoothing out the corners. "Are we going to meet Alice out in the garden for tea? If we have time, of course."

Mary Alice Brandon was my other acquaintance around the castle. A servant at seventeen, she was a small, perky girl who knew how to cheer any person. I was sure that was why Alice was placed in the position of being Father's maid, as she was constantly in good spirits.

"Not if _we_ have time," Samantha amended. "If _you _have time. You have a reading lesson in the afternoon with Sir Brady, not to mention the speech and grammar session after supper with that old English fellow."

I groaned, slouching.

"No! None of that, Bella," said Sam. She straightened me back up, and then finished her speculation of my dress, nodding. "And I thought you liked learning to read and write."

"I do," I said. One of my favorite things to do was take a book out to the garden and read, preferably without this absurd corset. "But I would rather be with you and Alice."

Sam smiled at me, and scurried to get a pair of pointy, flat, white shoes.

"Must I wear those awful shoes again?" I asked. "This dress is long enough I could pass it off anyhow."

Samantha ignored me and spiked up my dress, slipping the shoes on over my feet. I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing at her blunt, uncommon behavior. "Yes, I guess you _could _roam around barefooted, if you wanted," she said. "But Sir Brady is such a cross man." She smoothed the dress back down, making sure it was crease-less. "There," she added. "You look stunning, as always."

I blushed.

Sam snorted. "There you go again. I swear, you blush more in a minute than a normal girl in her whole life. You certainly are the strangest princess I have ever heard of, much less encountered."

"I do try," I teased.

Sam strode to my dresser, and after rummaging in it for a moment, she returned to where I was standing to place my tiara lightly on my head. "I think you are ready for the day," she said. "But I cannot elude the feeling that there is something we are forgetting…"

The door then flew open. A tall, fair-haired man entered, donned in the customary red suit that the minor servants wore.

"Perenelle!" Samantha exclaimed in recognition.

"The king sent me for Princess Isabella," said Perenelle, winded. It seemed he must have hurried up the stairwell to my tower in his quest to get my father's message to me on time. His accent was more French than I was used to around the castle; most of the people Father conferred with spoke in English. "He and the queen are soon to be leaving, and Queen Renee wishes to speak with her daughter."

"Oh, well," muttered Samantha, flushing. She fiddled with a piece of string in her hands, not making eye contact with Perenelle. "Well, off to breakfast with you, Isabella." And she shooed me out of my room.

In the parlor, Mother was waiting for me.

"Isabella," she declared when I walked inside. She was sporting a red day gown underneath her blue riding coat.

"Are we going somewhere today?" I asked, sitting lithely in my chair around the wooden table.

"No, you have those lessons at present, do you not remember?"

"Yes, I do remember," I said stiffly, reaching inelegantly for the fromage. "But – wait, where is Father? And where is Emmett?"

I just noticed that my father and my older brother were not present at the table. Normally, I arrive at the breakfast table so tardy that Emmett ordinarily would have eaten all the fromage.

"Isabella!" proclaimed Mother, her eyes trained on the hand that had just picked up the fromage. "Princesses like yourself do not behave in public like so."

I grunted noncommittally, earning a gasp from Mother. I did not fail to notice she did not answer the question of the whereabouts of my father and brother.

I typically received a speech on my manners daily from Mother – it was common knowledge not only to the people of the castle, but to all the people of France. I suppose that not following my orders was one of the reasons I was well-known, but Mother says that it was an awful habit to get into. On a daily basis, Mother would lecture me on the etiquette of a princess, and then she would go on to tell me stories of when she was my age… I knew almost every tale. Mother really didn't have that interesting of a life.

"At any rate," Mother continued, "your father and I are going to visit Sir Channahon today about his panel on the court, so _please_ behave yourself with your tutors."

"Do not I always?"

Mother threw me a dark look. "Nevertheless, try as hard as you can. No more inefficiency, or I shall arrange for you to carry out more posture technique."

My face slipped from being carefully controlled and uninterested to a mask of horror. "Mother, please, no more!" Posture classes were the most horrendous, most tedious and wearisome lesson that anyone could possibly withstand.

Mother smiled.

Perenelle returned. "Queen Renee, your carriage is waiting outside when you are ready."

"Oh, thank you, Perenelle," she said, beginning to rise from her chair. "And Isabella," she went on, "since you decided to come to breakfast so belatedly this morn, Sir Brady is waiting for you to finish your meal in the main room."

"What?" I exclaimed, maladroitly ramming all my baguette into my mouth. Ignoring Mother's irritated huff, I stood from my chair, grabbed an apple, and bolted to the main room.

"Ah, Princess Isabella," Sir Brady said when I entered the room. The collar of his suit was untidy; it bothered me. I stood in the doorway and stared at it until he looked down at himself, bewildered, saying, "Whatever is the matter, Princess?"

And I strode straight to him and flipped the collar until it was laying the right way. I patted it twice, and stepped back to smile at him.

He beamed in reply. _Cross man, indeed_, I thought, thinking of Samantha's earlier words. "Thank you, Princess Isabella," he said. "Shall we begin our lesson?" He held out his arm in a gesture for me to sit on the chair.

Sir Brady sat in the chair beside mine, and he pulled a thick book out of his coat pocket. "I presume you do not need any help today, do you, Princess Isabella?"

I grinned. "No, Sir Brady."

And so the next two hours were spent in a comfortable silence.

* * *

The light breeze of the Parisian wind blew the tendrils of my dark hair around my pale face, into my brown eyes. The bottom of my dress was ruffled by the draft as I walked gracefully to the garden, where Samantha and Mary Alice waited for tea.

Oftentimes, Mother and Father would forbid me to come and talk with the servants. They would say it was "not princess-like behavior." Honestly, did I really care about what was and what was not princess-like behavior? I did not.

Since Samantha and Alice began working at the castle, around the age of twelve, we had been close companions. All the same age, Sam, Alice, and I would discuss the attractive princes. Although I had been positioned since birth to wed Jacob Black, the prince of Belgium, we could not help but giggle at Prince Edward Masen of England, or Prince Michael Newton of Wales.

The little round, white table was placed on the outskirts of the large garden, surrounded by flowers of all colors and small, breezy trees. It provided an excellent view of the large, white castle, shaped by soft green ivy and tall towers, yet the table was hardly noticeable from a window. Samantha and Mary Alice sat in two of the small chairs, and they looked up when they heard my footsteps coming towards them.

"_Bonjour_, Bella," chirped Alice when I came into view.

I laughed, pulling out the third chair, tucking my dress underneath me, and sitting. "_Salut à vous deux_," I said. Then I remembered something. "Alice, have you seen Father? Or Emmett?"

Alice's eyes glistened. "Your father had some important, er, business to convey. He thought it was best to take his son with him."

"Oh, so it was one of _those _things."

"Oh, no," said Alice. "No, I am sure King Charlie would have taken you, if you had not been so deep in sleep that an uprising could not have woken you."

I blushed. Then remembering Samantha's earlier words, I glanced at her, one pool of blood blending in with another.

Sam smiled at me, pulling a white something out from her apron pocket. "This is a letter from Prince Jacob Black. Anton received it only a moment ago. Or at least, he gave it to me only a moment ago," she added.

She held the letter out to me, and I took it.

It was silent for a moment while I read over the letter.

"Well?" demanded Alice. "Are you going to tell us what it says or not?"

"Um," I said. I reached down to untangle my dress that had wrapped around my legs due to the increasing of the wind speed. "Basically, it says that he will be around the palace in a few days."

Alice frowned. "That can't be all it says, Bella." And then she snatched it out of my hands.

"Hey!" I protested, laughing, I attempted halfheartedly to grab the note back. "I'm the princess, give it back!"

Watching us bicker, Sam giggled and said, "Bella, you have always said you do not really care if you are the princess or not."

"Yes, but she has my letter…"

Something about my expression made Sam throw her head back and laugh exuberantly.

"Isabella Marie!" Alice cried, smacking me on the shoulder ("Mary Alice! We do not hit people!" exclaimed an astonished Samantha). "You didn't tell us that he was coming here to prepare you for your _wedding_!"

I smiled sheepishly as I watched Sam, who was staring at Alice to ensure she didn't hit me again. Her eyes stayed trained on Alice, but her mouth opened in shock.

I picked up my tea so I would not have to speak, and gulped it in a fashion that would give Mother a heart attack if she were here.

Sam and Alice's objections swam through my ears.

"Your _wedding?_"

"Bella, you are eighteen!"

"Prince Jacob Black!"

"Belgium?!"

"He is _so _handsome_…_"

"_Mon dieu_!"

"You are too careless to rule yet!"

"Mary Alice! You sure are supportive."

"I apologize, Samantha, I did not know I was speaking negatives; I only thought I was verbalizing the truth."

"The truth? _Sacre bleu_, Alice, the princess is about to become a queen! Do you think she really wants to hear the truth?"

"Yes, Sam, I actually –"

"Ladies!" I said, halting their bickering. "_Ta gueule_!"

"_Vous êtes une pomme de terre avec le visage d'un cochon d'inde_ if you do this, Isabella," hissed Alice.

"Mary Alice! Did you just call the princess a potato with the face of a guinea pig? _Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage_!"

"Alice," I placated. "I honestly do not have a choice. You know this has been my prophecy since I was born!"

"And do you not know Bella well enough to know that, if she truly did not want to marry Prince Jacob, she would not?"

Alice thought about this and sighed. "I suppose you are right," she said. She perked up suddenly, her dark eyes dancing. "Besides," Alice added, "Prince Jacob is _splendide_."

The doorman, Anton, came into view then. He did not look surprised to see me out in the garden, drinking tea with two of the servants. "Princess Isabella," he said, "you have a guest at the door." And then he disappeared back the way he came.

My eyes widened in alarm. "Samantha," I said. I could not recede the suspicious feeling that it was Prince Jacob at the door. "When, exactly, did Anton receive that letter?"

"He did not tell me."

"Why?" murmured Alice. "Why, Princess Isabella, why? Do you suppose it is Prince Jacob Black at the door?"

"Yes, Mary Alice, that is exactly who I suppose is at the door."

* * *

**Beat'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1. I SUPERDUPERSUPER THANK YOU.**

**A/N: Uhm. Hey?**

**I was watching the Love Story music video for the zillionth time. So, I was marveling at how beautiful Taylor's dress was... **

**So I got into looking at 19th century dresses. So, while I was doing that, I thought "Wow, wouldn't Bella look amazing in some of these?" So yeah. This is what happened.**

_Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage - _You have the brain of a cheese sandwhich(:

_Ta gueule - _Shut up

_Sacre bleu _- Oh, My God

_Mon dieu -_ My God

_Salut à vous deux _- Hello to you both

**EPOV up next, promise.**

**And this story will have both romance AND adventure. **

**All dresses to be used in the story are on my profile. (click Renee's Red Dress, Blue Dress, and Navy Coat)**

**Tell me if it sucks.**

**Thanks.**

**-Claire**

**Review! Tell me if I should just delete the story or what, because.. yeah. I'm not quite sure what kind of feedback this will get.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Hey folks. I'm SO sorry it took so long to update, but this isn't exactly a priority, as you know. **

**Anyway, there's no french in this. And I don't even take French. I'm in middle school, so I don't even have to take a foreign language. **

**Enjoy yourself. Drink Coca-Cola!**

* * *

EPOV

"I really do not want to do this," I said stiffly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, Eddie, cheer up, man!" crowed my servant, Eric. I threw him a glare, and he backtracked. "Prince Edward, you're eighteen now! Besides, there are tons of other men who would pay loads to be in your place. I mean, have you _seen_ the girls here?"

It was times like these, when he was bellowing out his enthusiasm, that Eric's colonial accent was really revealed. Father was all about settling in the Americas, so when Eric Yorkie sailed back to England for a job, he was euphoric. Evidently, Mother thought that I was too pompous, and placed a foolish, overly-buoyant _boy_ to be my servant in the hopes that we could befriend. I did not have time to make friends. My life was already planned out for me: I would rule alongside my father, King Edward Sr., until he passed, learning about the Parliament, government, and the keys to keeping subjects happy. I loved learning the secrets of being a king. The sovereignty, the respect, the grandeur, all of it. But there were downsides to being a ruler. Downsides such as having to have a wife to take as my queen.

So here I was, dressed in my finest ensemble, prepared for my prevailing eighteen-year-old gala. Practically every eminent female in Britain was waiting in the grand ballroom, and I had to dance with each of them.

I groaned, and Eric rushed over to me to brush off my suit. "Come on, Prince Edward, good spirits are essential!" he said cheerily. Usually, Eric's ever-present optimism really did not bother me, but tonight I just wanted to punch him in the stomach, which was very uncharacteristic for me.

Mother bustled into the room then.

Eric scrambled for a moment, and then raised his hand to graze the tip of his eyes in an automatic salute. "Queen Elizabeth!" he said, flushing and lowering his arm. "I mean – Your Majesty. Good evening!"

Mother smiled at him warmly. "Hello, Eric. Is my little Eddiekins ready yet?"

"Mother," I moaned, sending her a malevolent look.

My mother and I often had many disputes, due to the fact that our personalities clashed horribly. She was too relaxed, too lenient and easygoing, while I was so much more formal, so much more callous and reserved – so much more like my father, and my grandfather before him. I could not afford to slacken my decorous manner, because if I did so, the country might get out of hand. A strict government and firm laws were crucial to holding a well-functioning society. It was not like I was heartless – quite the contrary, in my opinion. I was hardly ever ill-tempered, and especially not with my mother. But when it was her idea to host a _ball,_ she had gone way too far.

"Oh, Edward, don't have such a hairy heart," Elizabeth fussed. "I think you will love the girls in the ballroom, oh, they're all _so_ beautiful. When I attended your father's ceremonial gala, I was positive I was one of the only women in the room who was attractive enough for him." She laughed. "It's a good thing that you have a good variety, Edward."

I nodded.

"Do you have your speech ready, Prince Edward?" asked Eric.

"Speech?" I said, bewildered. "No one said anything about a speech."

Eric sent me a panicky glance, but Elizabeth laughed.

"Oh, that's alright," she told Eric. "Eddie will be prepared."

"Yes, I think my speech is quite fluent," I said briskly, raising my eyebrows at Eric, as though questioning his knowledge.

"Yes, yes. I'm quite fluent in my sarcasm, as well, so I'm sure if Edward here doesn't bring any humor to the party, I surely will." Elizabeth smiled.

I chuckled. "I am sure you will, Mother."

Eric glanced at the grand clock. "It's about time for Edward to go out now," he said.

I sighed, and pulled my shoulders back, lifting my chin. A confident air is essential when making a speech, and I had mastered the impression when I was a boy.

"I'll be mingling," said Elizabeth laconically, returning to the appearance she was when she wasn't used to the audience. She turned around, and strode out the door into the ballroom.

"Ready?" asked Eric, grinning.

"Okay," I said, as Eric opened the double doors.

Lots of light hit my eyes. The ballroom was always a magnificent place, and now it was simply spectacular with high, glimmering walls, polished golden floors, and sparkling chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, filled with hundreds of candles. Dozens of people crowded in the center of the room and around the large food tables, and now they were all facing me, their expressions expectant.

"Hello, everyone," I said loudly, making sure people in the back of the spacious room could hear me. "I would like to welcome you to my eighteenth birthday gala, and I cordially invite you to all the wonderful food that I have provided, and please make yourselves as comfortable as possible. I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you were able to come here tonight, and I look forward to greeting you all formally and getting to know you personally. It seems absolutely surreal that I am eighteen years of age now, and I feel like I could celebrate and cheer all night!" I inserted a smile here, and paused while small chuckles of the crowd dispersed. "I anticipate having an abounding rest of the year. I will be searching for myself a pleasant woman to call my wife, and I will do my best to provide a suitable living style for everyone now that I am officially a man in our society. Please enjoy the music and the merriment that I have offered, as my gift to you, and take pleasure in the various festivities taking place around the room. Again, I thank you for attending my celebration, and have an amiable and lovely rest of the evening."

I smiled once more, and the gathering clapped for a moment before the hum of talk broke out in the copious hall once more.

Elizabeth drifted over to me. "Oh, splendid job, Edward!" she praised. "Of course, if you had practiced, it could have been better. But with my training, I was probably the only one who noticed that you hadn't rehearsed it."

I stared at her for a minute.

She fiddled with a string on her dress, not looking at me, until she added, "It was very delightful, of course. I just meant that some practice might have made it perfect."

I nodded inattentively in acknowledgment, and we stood in silence for a moment, Elizabeth still picking at her dress. I watched all the people in the room as they ate and sang together, dancing and laughing. Most of the men present I didn't even know – friends of Father's, dukes, lords, and important authority figures. All of the women were young, even younger than I was, and every one of them was dressed in gaudy gowns, with their hair styled up into a bun.

"Okay, what do I do now?" I asked.

Elizabeth's head snapped up, and then she flushed, mumbling an apology for her behavior. Then she said, "Just go and ask one to dance. There should be plenty of beautiful girls here to choose from." And then she bustled away to go chat with the ensemble that was playing on the platform.

I sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the voice in my head that reminded me how unnecessary this was, and sauntered into the middle of the room, where a short, red-headed girl stood by herself, admiring various paintings. She was wearing a lavender dress that trailed on the floor, and the strawberry curls in her bun sprung when she moved.

When I reached her, I bowed and asked, "May I have this dance?" just as a slow ballad began to play. The girl giggled and nodded, taking my hand in hers.

"My name is Edward Masen," I said, as we waltzed to the music.

She giggled again. "I'm Tanya," she trilled. "Tanya Moore. My father is Fredrick Moore, you know, of the Parliament." She had a high-pitched, nervous voice that didn't really seem to match her attractive features.

I smiled, trying to make her feel more comfortable. I had to be pleasant to every person, because everyone had a choice that could potentially affect my future. I needed to start building my reputation while I could, after all, and now that I was eighteen, what better place was there to start developing my career as king then at my own social event?

"I am very pleased to meet you, Tanya," I said smoothly.

Giggle. I only knew that twelve-year-old girls giggled this much, but I could not be sure that all women did not behave so: the only woman I was ever near was Elizabeth, or maybe the servants around the house. Occasionally, another woman would stop by – a countess, maybe, or a duchess. But never a girl who was not raised to have such underrated manners.

"How old are you, Tanya?" I asked, trying to avoid stepping on her feet. She was not a very capable dancer. I made my voice sound truly curious, and attempted to keep the frustration and exasperation out of my tone.

"I'm sixteen," she said, giggling again.

I nodded apathetically, and then she stepped on my foot. I had to look down to ensure I did not squash her delicate toes, hearing her giggle in my ear.

I snapped my head up, and looked past her. "Oh, I am awfully sorry, Tanya, but my mother is looking for me," I lied easily. "It was an enjoyable dancing with you, and I hope you have a satisfying rest of the evening." And then I walked as fast as I could away from her, looking for Elizabeth.

"Never," I said once I reached her, "make me dance with Fredrick Moore's daughter again."

Elizabeth laughed. "I know, Miss Tanya is _such_ a pleasure to converse with," she said derisively.

"There you go with that sarcasm again," I grumbled, and Elizabeth cackled.

"Oh, Eddie, cheer up, cheer up!" she guffawed. "Just try another girl. Like, Miss Stanley, for instance. She's Old Lee Stanley's girl. The oldest of three, and she's sure a looker." Elizabeth pointed to a dark-haired girl in yellow, with rosy cheeks and a witty smile.

I nodded in appreciation to Elizabeth and headed to where the girl was standing, talking animatedly with a group of older women. When I came nearer she turned around and a small blush crept up her cheeks.

"Miss Stanley, my name is Edward Masen," I introduced when she saw me. "Would you care to dance with me?"

"Oh, yes, a dance would be lovely." She smiled, exposing a row of shining white teeth. "My name is Jessica, by the way," she explained while we began twirling on the polished oak floor. I had to admit, she was a very skilled dancer, and she was able to keep eye contact with me most of the time, but occasionally she had to look down at our feet to make sure she was doing the steps right.

"Did you hear," Jessica said suddenly, "that the princess of France and Prince Jacob Black are going to be married?"

I was taken aback by the direction our conversation had taken. "No," I said, bemused. "Why?"

"Why not? I just thought that since France and Belgium are so far apart, that the prince was more likely to wed in someplace a little closer," Jessica rattled off. "But of course, I've heard that King Charlie and King Billy are supposedly very close friends, and that their children had been set to marry since they were born."

I just stared at her while she jabbered on. She was probably completely unaware that I was who she was talking to, except she kept a firm grip on my hands, and we kept on dancing.

"…But I mean, who wouldn't want to marry the princess of France? I've heard she's one of the most legendary princesses in all of history. Of course, she's beautiful, classy, kind, and I've heard she's very funny as well, but – like I said earlier, I think – it's just that France and Belgium are _so_ far away from each other!"

I raised my eyebrows, trying to communicate with her nonverbally that I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. It seemed I couldn't get a word in at all while she was talking, as she talked so fast, but I found my chance here. "Er, who is the princess of France?"

Jessica gasped in genuine astonishment. "And here I was, thinking that _everyone_ knew the name of the French princess! Isabella Swan. Well, you might have heard of her older brother, Prince Emmett." I tried to shake my head here, and tell her I'd never heard of Prince Emmett, either, but Jessica kept on talking. "…Prince Emmett supposed to be really well known for his expertise in searches and in battles. He's said to be really brave, as well, so I'm sure that you and he would get along wonderfully if you two ever met."

She paused, and it was clear I was supposed to insert my opinions here. "Oh, yes," I agreed; though I had no idea what I was agreeing to, because Jessica's fast speech was so hard to decipher. "Yes, I am sure that, um, that Prince Emmett and I would, um, become the best of friends."

Fortunately, the song the ensemble was playing came to a close. I stepped back and bowed, and Jessica smiled again and curtsied. Then she bobbled off to go gossip with another group of women, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt nice to be rid of Jessica, and her tittle-tattle, and even better to be clear of Tanya, and her shrill giggles and toe-trodding.

I was beginning to think that his ball to find me a wife was completely fruitless, until I spotted a tall, slender girl who stood out from the rest for me. She was the only woman in the room who was wearing her hair down, and I could see why: this girl had long, golden tresses of hair that coiled down her back, accenting the scarlet gown she was wearing and the natural way her face looked. She was standing alone by the drinks, so I took my chances and walked towards her.

"Hello." I was growing tired of introducing myself, but with a girl this beautiful, I was sure one last time would be all right. "I am Edward Masen. Would you mind dancing with me?"

"All right," she said, and she took my hand. I lead her into the center of the ballroom.

"I have never seen you before, for I am sure I would have remembered seeing a woman so beautiful," I said, and then I smiled. "Who are your parents?"

"I appreciate your flattering remark," said the girl, "but my parents aren't very well-known. My father works at a bank, and my mother works around the house."

"Oh?" I said. "Well, then surely you have a few siblings that I have heard of before."

"I doubt it." She sighed. "I only have two younger brothers, and they certainly are not old enough, or mature enough, to have been recognized."

"Well then, what is your name?"

"Rosalie Hale." And then she laughed. I was surprised to find that the sound of her laugh was very pretty, and I found myself staring at her. She had striking blue eyes, and a hard gaze that seemed intelligent and exuberant at the same time. "I am seventeen."

Seventeen? This was a nice age, and I realized that I enjoyed being around her. Rosalie was a very good dancer, even better than Jessica was – I was able to twirl her around and she would follow my steps easily, never looking down once. People around us cleared out of the center of the floor to make room and to watch us while we danced.

"You are a very talented dancer," I praised.

"Thank you," Rosalie said. "You are not too abysmal, either."

We waltzed in silence for a moment. More people had come to watch us, creating a ring around the center floor where Rosalie and I almost floated gracefully across.

"So, do you come to balls often, Miss Hale?"

She giggled, but not in an annoying way. More like in a flattering way. "Please, do not call me Miss Hale. You can call me Rosalie, but most of my friends call me Rose."

Rose. I liked it – it was a very fitting name for such a beautiful girl. "You still have not answered my question," I reminded her, smiling.

"Oh, right," she said. "Not often, but I do come to balls and other parties every now and then."

"Oh, well that is nice."

"I suppose so."

We danced in silence again, but it was a comfortable silence. Rosalie's golden hair and her red gown flowed around her as we moved, making an illusion that our waltz was much more complicated than it really was. But then the song ended, and so our dance ended as well.

"It was an immense pleasure to dance with you, Rose," I said, kissing her hand.

Rosalie laughed. "I find you to be enjoyable company," she complimented.

"Do you need a place to stay for the night?" I asked.

"Well, my mother and father are probably awake waiting for me."

"Oh," I said.

"But thank you for the offer, I greatly appreciate it."

"Oh, really, it would not be a problem. In case you did not notice already, I happen to live in an extremely large house." I loved how Rosalie's company seemed to bring out the best in me. I usually was not this… comfortable. I was so used to being so starched and prim, that I did not often get a chance to exonerate myself from all the stress. Just dancing and talking with Rosalie Hale seemed to ease all the strain, unlike Jessica's constant gibbering, or Tanya's irritating giggles.

"Thank you so much for the evening," Rose said. "I had an amazing time. I have had so much excellent food, and have met so many kind people, I do not think that I can thank you enough."

"So you are positive that you do not wish to stay?"

"No, really. I should go."

"Okay," I said. "But be sure to come back, all right?"

"I will," Rosalie promised. "You seem like a very compassionate person, Prince Edward. Despite what I have heard about you, I happen to thoroughly enjoy your company, and I look forward to seeing you again sometime."

And then I kissed her hand once more, and everything was back to the way it was.

* * *

**Author Note: Yeah, yeah, don't fuss, don't fuss. Rosalie and our Eddiekins are just friends. Keep your hairnets on.**

**Beta Note: PFFT. That's all I gotta say for Tanya & Jessica. Good Lord, even in the 1800s they are still...well...ridiculous. XD**

**If you don't review I shall snap your hairnets that will be placed on your head and tie cakes to your back and have Emmett chase after you screaming, "COME BACK MY LOVE!" while Edward, Alice, and I film it and put it on Youtube for the whole world to see.**

**....Okay, FINE. I can dream can't I? Just review and I won't go all medevil on your asses. :)**

**A/N: ...Yeah. Okay.**

**Anyway, review, please.**

**Song: Heartless, Kanye West  
**


	3. Chapter Three

**My heart and my soul, I give you control, consume me from the inside out, Lord.**

**Jesus, shine Your light and let the whole world see, for the glory of the risen King.**

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BPOV

I do not know how the hell I got here. All I knew was that I was grumbling at basically everything, swearing at periodic intervals, and my nerves were on a thin line. My hair was pulled back into a tight, painful bun, just like Little Miss Sunshine Rebecca Black wanted. The corset was suffocating, and I was sweltering in the long white dress I was stuffed in. I had been given more than one astounded look from each of the servants at the Black palace for my crude behavior, more today than any other day. Mother would have a field day, and Emmett would congratulate me. I didn't really care.

It took approximately six days to get to Belgium. Prince Jacob Black's palace, I discovered, was actually smaller than Prince Jacob Black's ego. If I wouldn't be sent to nun school for punching him in the face, I would have. It took a lot of my willpower not to just pop him in the mouth… and self-control that involved was exhausting. I slept for two days straight after I arrived while they planned out my wedding.

Now it was the day of, and I was lock up in my large, white room. It was a very nice room: a colossal green bed was positioned in a corner, and a sturdy wooden dresser along the left wall, next to the eight tall bookshelves. There was a potted plant rested in pretty much every crevice I looked into, and a full window that lead to a balcony overlooking a vast lake. The wind from outside liked to blow in through the window I kept open, and blew the sheer, dark green curtains ubiquitously. I had been surprised to find that I actually liked it a lot at the Black's palace.

I just did not like the people in it. Especially not Rebecca and Rachel Black, Jacob's older sisters. They were pretty, sure, but they thought way too much of themselves. Father said that Rachel, Rebecca, and I used to be best friends.

I found that very hard to believe.

The servants were absolute idiots, as well. I missed Samantha and Mary Alice. I even missed Perenelle, just a little. I missed my soft, delicate home in France. Belgium was not a place for me. But I guess I liked Jacob – excuse me, _Prince_ Jacob – enough that I could deal with it. For a while. But I was sure the servants would either a) kill me themselves or b) force me to kill myself to escape them killing me. I shuddered. Belgium servants were too snotty and uptight for my liking. They upturned their unusually long noses in the air whenever the word "fun" was even remotely close to being said.

So I went out of my way to annoy them, just to make them mad. It was what I had to done preoccupy myself for the past few days I had been here.

I played games with a porcelain vase whenever Randy McHenry entered my room.

I'd hear him coming up the stairs, and then I'd lurch up from my loll on the bed and start kicking it around like a ball. When he opened the door, I'd say, "Good Morning, McHenry," brightly. Then I would ask, "Would you like to play a game with me?" and I would kick the vase towards him so it rolled in a circle on the ground. Randy would gasp, do whatever it was he was going to do in my room quickly, and leave. He probably thought I was the most unsophisticated girl in the universe.

I also carved my name on the wall in the corner, under my bed. Actually, I was just my initials, but I thought that "BS" engraved into their wall would be good enough. No one had noticed that one yet.

I would over-water the plants, leave food for the rats, leave my hair down when people would demand me to put it up, and take three-hour-long baths. Once I tried taking a candle and setting a fern on fire, but then I realized that that might set me on fire as well, so I never tried that again.

The only people I liked here were Leah Clearwater and her cousin, Seth. They were Americans, and they would tell me stories about the colonies in exchange for stories of France. At first, I was thrown off by their accents – they would use these contractions, where they fused two words together, like "could not" would be "couldn't", or "I would" would be "I'd". It wasn't proper etiquette, but I had found it easier to use, and I was saying contractions all the time. I also picked up on some English swear words, courtesy of Leah, mostly.

The Clearwaters often reminded me of the Blacks. Seth and Leah were dark-skinned, dark-haired, good-looking, and confident, too. Except they were nicer. Seth was young and amusing, often tripping over things in eagerness or helping me create ways to bother the servants. Though the plans were impossible to ever accomplish, they were fun to make up, just the same. His dark, shaggy hair would flop into his eyes whenever he laughed, and I watched him get more muscular and taller every day.

I'd only been in Belgium for a few days, so I didn't know if Seth's growth spurt was just this country playing mind games with me or if it was something normal. I lost count of my days after the third; everything here was so _boring._ But Seth was helping me overcome my boredom. I owed him my life – but he would have to wait until I wasn't using it first.

Leah was becoming one of my best friends. She could always cheer me up, and she knew how to help me vent out angst. When she was in a good mood, I was, too. When I was in a bad mood, she was too. Leah was the only person who would light plants on fire with me. She was the one who helped me find tools to carve the wall with. She would recommend books to me, fix my hair, pick out my dresses, help me diss Rachel and Rebecca Black, and hum music with me. I would fiddle with her long brown hair, and we would share clothes and stories, we would make fun of Seth and his frivolous antics… **(Ha, Lacey…)**

But now I was standing in my room in a wedding gown. This was _my_ wedding. To Prince Jacob Black. I could scream. _Hell._

I flopped onto my bed in an unladylike fashion. My dress poofed out around me uncomfortably, and my feet dangled above the floor. I folded my arms across my chest, and huffed.

I needed a hug.

There was a knock on the door, and not two seconds later, Leah let herself in the room.

"Good morning," she said brightly.

"Humdinger."

"Well, I've never heard that one before."

Leah grinned. I grinned in spite of myself in reply, and she strode over to sit next to me on the bed. It barely jostled under the new weight.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "What is the matter, Bella?"

I frowned. "I'm getting _married_," I said, horrified at the thought.

"Yes."

"To Prince Jacob Black."

"Yes."

"So that means… I will be the queen of this place?"

"This place is called Belgium, Bella," said Leah slowly. "And you will be queen."

I frowned even more. "Well what if I don't want to be a queen?"

It was quiet for a moment while Leah thought that over.

"Why wouldn't you want to be a queen?" she asked, her voice flabbergasted.

I uncrossed my arms and began picking at a loose string on the sleeve of the dress. Well, it was not loose before, but it was now, and I did not want to look Leah in the eye. I avoided her question.

"Does this dress make me look old?" I lurched abruptly to my feet and held my arms out, spinning in a circle once.

Leah's eyebrows pulled together at the subject change, but she answered anyway. She knew I wouldn't answer until I wanted to. Her perception of me was almost as good as Sam and Alice. Almost.

"Isabella, you're eighteen. You could never look old no matter how hard you tried."

"What if I got pregnant?" I wondered. "Do you think I would look old then?"

Leah laughed. "Definitely not."

I sighed. The loose string on the dress bothered me now. I pulled at it, but it would not come off. I pulled harder, and it ripped off – but it also created a small hole in the delicate white fabric.

"Dammit," I cursed. I held the two ends of the hold together, looking around for a needle and thread.

"I shouldn't have told you those." Leah shook her head in exasperation. I laughed.

"Nope." I spotted a thimble on a stool. I walked over to it, but there was no needle next to it. Nor was there any string. I cursed again.

"You're going a bit overboard with the swears today," mused Leah. "I thought that when people get married, they were happy."

"But I have never even met any one else before. No special romances for Miss Isabella Swan, no ma'am. Just a marriage arranged for me since I was pooping in my baby dresses. A queen at eighteen, can you believe it?" I opened a drawer of the dresser, still looking for string, and found nothing in there except a pair of socks. I slipped them on over my feet – an attempt to rebel against what was coming in a few hours, or less – but my dress covered them up. I made a face and slammed the drawer shut.

"What do you have against being a queen anyway?"

I wrinkled my nose and looked in the third drawer down from the top. There was absolutely nothing in there, just air and the smooth wood of the dresser.

"Do I look like the kind of person who would make a good queen to you?" I challenged, closing the drawer.

Leah didn't answer.

"Queens have to be so formal all the time, and they have to have proper manners, and make so many public appearances, and wake up early, and dress a certain way, and give lectures to their daughters, and make their daughters do _absurd_ things like take English lessons or get _married…_" I slammed the bottom drawer shut vigorously, and the whole dresser shook. A lock of hair fell into my eyes, and I ripped my hair out of its stiff bun and let it flow down my back. Then I made a face as I decided where to look next.

"And what is the point in arranged marriages _anyway?_" I continued, not waiting for an answer. I paced over to the desk by the door. "The couple is miserable more than half the time. My mother and father are just exceptions." There was neither string nor needles in the desk. Just a lot of quills and ink, and three pieces of parchment.

Frowning, I went to stand in the middle of the room, still holding the rip in my wedding dress. Leah was still sitting on the bed mutely, watching me. I knew that she was only quiet when she was really pondering something, because silence from Leah was as rare as short-hemmed gowns. Just as I began wondering what she was thinking, she spoke.

"Don't you like Jacob?"

The question was to be expected, but I had no answer for it. I toyed with the hole in the sleeve for a while, not responding. I could feel Leah's gaze on my face, but I didn't look at her. The room was soundless for a long time.

"Princess Isabella?" a muffled voice called from the other side of the door.

"Um," I said. I was sure that this was a servant coming to get me prepared for the wedding, and I shot a panicked glance at Leah, who met my gaze with one eyebrow raised. "Come in."

A pale, gangly boy opened the door timidly. I had seen this boy around the palace before – he was Rachel Black's main servant, Tyler.

"Princess Rachel requests a discussion with you, Princess," Tyler choked.

Feeling pity for him, I beamed at him. He gave me a tentative smile in return, and it was silent for a minute as his words sunk in. Why would Miss Not-So-Perfect want to speak to me? I like to claw her face inside out.

"Where will she be waiting?" I asked.

"In the foyer."

I furrowed my brow. I didn't know where the foyer was. I had not been out of my room since I came to Belgium. I had walked down the corridor of my room three times: once to set fire to a plant, once to get more flames on my candle, and once just to look at the pictures on the wall. The foyer was probably in the heart of the palace – a place I refused to visit in my rebellion of Rebecca, Rachel, and the other servants.

Balking, I asked, "Where is the foyer?"

I heard Leah snort behind me on the bed, but Tyler still looked shy as he replied, "Directly down the staircase."

My shoulders slumped.

I frowned. "So I should have been through the foyer on my first day here, on my way up to the room?"

"Yes, Princess."

"Huh," I said.

Tyler wrung his hands together and began backing out the door. "She wishes to speak to you before the wedding, and asks for your acquaintance as soon as possible."

Nothing was processing. It took me a minute to answer.

"Okay," I said, still confused. "Thank you, Tyler."

Almost out of the door, Tyler stopped in his tracks when I said his name. Then he bowed. "You are welcome, Princess Isabella."

He closed the door behind him, and I whirled around to Leah.

"I don't want to talk to Rachel," I complained, launching myself at the bed and burying my face in the pillows. The wedding dress puffed out again. Leah brushed soothing fingers through my hair.

"I know, hun," she placated. "But look on the bright side, you have a new admirer around here."

"Perfect," I grumbled. "Just what I needed to make my day."

Leah chuckled. Her fingers abruptly stopped combing through my hair. "Come on, Bells. You've got to go talk to Rachel now."

I groaned and stumbled inelegantly to my feet. I still had on my socks. "Do I have to?" I asked.

"Well, she will be your sister-in-law in a few hours, you know. Might as well get used to her now."

"Might as well," I echoed.

"And you might want to put on shoes," added Leah. "It's kind of unladylike to walk around without them on."

I grunted. "Who wants to be a lady anyway?"

Leah rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, tugging me out the door. She ignored my complaints. I really, really _hated_ the Black sisters. Jacob, I could deal with. He was not always bearable, but I could probably handle it. But Rachel and Rebecca were absolute b–

"Princess Isabella," sang Rachel, looking up at us as Leah led me down the stairs. "Good day!"

I held back a grimace and plastered a false smile on my face. "Good day, Princess Rachel."

Rachel beamed. It was undeniably a fallacious smile. "Oh, and Miss Clearwater as well! Hello, Miss Clearwater!"

"Hello, Princess Rachel," replied Leah coolly. "I hope you are doing well."

"Yes, yes, very well, Miss Clearwater!"

Leah's expression of horror at being repeatedly addressed as "Miss Clearwater" made me snicker. I coughed in my hand to hide it.

Leah glared at me, as though saying _this is all your fault._

Her mouth opened slowly, and then she said, "I prefer to go by Leah, if you do not mind, Princess."

"Sure, sure," patronized Rachel, waving a hand. "Do you mind if Princess Isabella and I speak alone for a minute?"

"Oh, please, do not mind me," said Leah quickly. "I will be leaving now."

Leah shot me a look, and then she turned and walked back up the large staircase.

I glanced around. The walls of the foyer were ruby, and the candles in the chandelier flickered against the glossy marble floor. A collection of vases were arranged in a corner, and two large, wooden doors dominated the wall directly in front of me. Rachel stood in the center of the room at the foot of the staircase, her feet sunk into a thick black fur carpet. I took the steps necessary towards Rachel, not close enough to touch her, but close enough to not be considered rude.

"So," began Rachel in a drawling tone. "You are getting married today to my younger brother."

Obviously. "Yes."

Rachel raised her dark eyebrows. "Are you nervous?"

My face paled before I could stop it, but my simulated smile stayed put. I tried to choke out a "no" but Rachel was not listening.

"Is Isabella Swan _nervous?_" She cackled. "_The_ Isabella Swan? This should be news to everyone! I have heard that you are 'The Fearless One'. It is nice to know that is not the case here!" She cackled again.

"Is it not natural to be nervous on one's day of marriage?" I stretched my fake smile wider, making sure it was still in place.

It was quiet. I thought I could hear footsteps from somewhere upstairs, but I could not be sure.

"I suppose it is, yes," Rachel finally allowed. "But I still am not getting over the fact that some one like _you_ would ever wed my brother."

"Some one like me?" I repeated, arching one eyebrow.

"Well, you know I mean that in the nicest way possible, Isabella," Rachel guffawed. "But I just do not think that you are good enough for Jacob."

There was an unfathomable pause. I cocked my head to the side.

"Jealous, Black?"

"Not at all, Swan."

We glared at each other for a moment. The silence seemed too loud, like a buzzing in my ears that rang as each minute passed.

"Why is your hair down?" she asked suddenly.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"I, um, there was a bump. So I took it down and planned to re-do it later."

"Oh." Rachel's gaze flickered down to the hole in the sleeve of the wedding dress. A deafening scream made my heart skip a beat in alarm.

"What have you done to this dress?" Rachel shrieked.

Once my heard slowed, I shrugged. I was unperturbed by the switch from silence to earsplitting screams, being accustomed to Rachel and her mood swings. "Ripped it."

Rachel glowered. "Do you know how much trouble I sent my servants through to get that to you?"

"No."

"Do you even _care_ about anyone but yourself at all?"

I pretended to think for a minute. "No, not really."

Rachel screeched loudly, and then her hand came in contact with my left cheek.

"Ow!" I cried, cradling my face with my hand. "_Salope_! Why did you slap me?"

Rachel smirked sanctimoniously. "I did not _slap_ you," she sneered. "I merely high-fived your face."

Under different circumstances, I might have found that funny. But I did not.

"Yeah?" I braved. "I'll show you a high-five, you little–"

"Hey, hey!" a bass voice boomed. "What is going on here?"

I twirled. Jacob bustled straight towards us, a cocky smile on his face. I was beginning to think it was permanently etched there, because it was present every time I saw him. But then again, I rarely saw anyone.

"Oh, nothing really," wheedled Rachel. "Princess Isabella and I are just having a friendly talk."

Jacob's thick eyebrows knitted together. "It did not look like a friendly talk," he said.

"Oh, that is because it was not!" replied Rachel quickly. "Isabella slapped me! It was only in my defense that I slapped her in return!"

Jacob stepped forward and examined my face. "Aw, Rach, that was not a hard slap at all!"

Rachel and I were qiet as we both processed that.

Then I gasped, shocked, as I finally understood.

I watched Jacob tell his sister to "watch and learn", and I watched his hand ball up and his arm wind back. There was no time to defend myself.

His punch was much, much harder – so hard it forced my knees to buckle and the breath to be knocked out of me. My mouth throbbed, and something warm trickled down my face: my nose was bleeding.

More silence.

"Oh," I heard Rachel finally say. "So that is how you do it. I will try that next time." I could hear the smile in her voice. She expected a next time.

Jacob laughed easily. He did not seem care about me lying on the floor by his hand. Back in France, he would have been detained for that. I guess everything is different in Belgium.

"Okay, Rach," he said, still chuckling. "Now that this little chat is over, I will see you later." His footsteps began to move, loud and pounding against the hard floor. "Oh, and Princess Isabella," he added, his feet stopping. "Please do not bleed on the dress. Thanks."

Rachel laughed; a high, nasally sound. "Best Wishes, _Princess,_" she sneered, stepping directly over me and out a doorway.

I moaned in pain. It felt as though Jacob had knocked all of my teeth out. It even hurt to grimace.

There were footsteps racing down the staircase, and then Leah's panicked voice.

"Bella!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright? Oh, my God, you're bleeding! What happened? I heard Jacob come down but I couldn't understand what he was saying… Oh, Bella! Can you get up? Do you need help?"

It hurt to open my mouth, so I just used one hand to stop the blood flow from my nose and used the other to hoist myself off the floor as my answer. Leah fretted the whole way up to my room.

"Oh, I can't believe they did this to you… and on your wedding day, too! I heard Rachel being upset about the dress, and your hair, but you know that thing you said before you started screaming – I can't remember what it was – really wasn't helping things at all, because then it was really not at good time to be sarcastic, especially with Rachel, or Rebecca, even, but since you were with Rachel this time that doesn't even really matter and then, like I said before, you started screaming 'ow' so I assumed she stomped on your foot or pulled your hair or something and then I heard Prince Jacob start yelling and I began to wonder what was going on but I didn't want to go down there because I'm afraid of what Rachel would do to me – probably something like slit my throat and dance in my blood…" **(Lacey and Wes!)**

"Liuh," I mumbled, my words somewhat incoherent due to the broken nose, "shid ug!"

Leah shut up, just like I asked her to, and ushered me into my room.

She spent about a half-hour cleaning up my blood and fixing my nose. Then she stole some string and a needle from an adjacent room and began sewing up the hole in my dress. After that, Leah retied my hair into a bun, but this time it was a nice bun – it curled down my back and was flattering to my face. It least something was pretty in this ugly, frilly wedding dress.

Overall, I pretty much owed Leah my life.

"Thank you so much, again," I said for the millionth time as I was shepherded down the corridor to where the wedding was being held.

"Okay, okay, just go! And don't worry about a thing, I am sure the nothing will happen to you again like it did today!"

Oh, well that made me feel better. As opposed as I was to getting married, Jacob punching me earlier only made me hate this predicament even more. How could he? Would he do this kind of thing all the time? It was common knowledge that Jacob was a show-off. He was also conceited and cocky, and he has the personality of a cracked egg. Most of the time, even on his best manners, Jacob was an arrogant bastard. I assumed he had a few good moments.

But now that I thought about it, I had never seen nor heard of Jacob having a good moment. Not even a rumor. No facts, no stories, nothing solid to base anything like kindness from Jacob off of. He forces me to call him _Prince Jacob_, like I'm not good enough to call him "Jacob" or "Jake" like his sisters do. He will not allow me out of the east wing of the palace. He does not permit me to going to feasts or any future balls held at the palace, even if the ball was held in my favor. He would not let me go in his room, and when I first arrived at the palace, he left me alone to find my room myself. Then he goes off and punches me the day I'm supposed to wed him, and he expects me to be happy about it?

No way.

The two servants, herding me down the stairwell to the garden where the wedding was being held, dropped me off behind a wall. I was supposed to wait for a signal to walk down an aisle, but I was too agitated and restless to stand still like I was supposed to. My socks were off – Annabelle, a tiny servant girl, found them and slipped them off, replacing my socks with an uncomfortable pair of white heels. I was itching to get out of this dress – the lace was scratchy and irritated my skin. I was so keyed-up that I hopped around in place, trying to shake off my nerves.

I was just _so_ angry with Jacob right now. I didn't know if it was the punch that set me off, or if the facts had been in front of me all this time, but the truth was so painfully obvious now. I knew what I had to do.

There was a forest right next to where I was waiting. I slip into it easily without being seen. Perfect.

I slid out of my shoes and took off my heavy veil. I silently but quickly ripped most of the lace off the sleeve of my dress, exonerating my arms. It felt good. I lifted the hem of my dress and stepped off the cement and onto the grass of the forest; the pressure made my mud squelch and rise up between my toes.

I smiled, and tiptoed into the forest, careful not to make any sound accidentally.

When I got deep enough in the trees that I could no longer see sunlight at all, I broke into a run.

I was free, I was leaving.

I was home.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long. Last weekend I had a dance competiton and today I just got back from a church retreat. It was amazing! God is so... indescribable. Unbelieveable. Life Love '09, Flood the Nations!**

**B/N: GAH JACOB! There's another reason for me to hate him even more! How dare he! I swear to God...I'm going to do something...I just don't know what. AHA I know! I shall command all of my animal crackers to eat him. Yes, that's it. Anyways, review peoples! Or I shall send them after _you. _x]**

**A/N: Wow, that's a good one. (:**

**Song: Mighty To Save, Hillsong. He rose and conquered the grave, Jesus conquered the grave.**

**REVIEW. Tell me if love it/hate it.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Hihi! Sorry it took so long... I've so so freaking busy it's not even funny. And it's about to get worse! Expect next chapter around Saturday/Sunday, and no time after that. I leave for Nationals/Orlando on Thursdayy!!!**

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1810-4

**EPOV**

"Edward."

"Ehh?"

"You can not just sit here and mope your whole life. Your father is waiting for you."

"Great."

Elizabeth smacked me with the back of her hand. "I have had enough of this, you hear? Find your manners before I make you." She shook her finger at me.

"Yes, Mother," I said.

"Better," allowed Elizabeth. "Your conduct has been dwindling lately, I do not want this to continue! Clean up your act or I shall lock you up in the cellar." Her mood then went in a complete arc, and she beamed at me, patting my cheek lovingly. "Now. If you go in your bedroom, you will see that Eric has your day all planned out for you. I want you to look at the schedule, get ready to go, then when the day is over you can come back and write that letter to Little Miss Nobody, alright?" She smiled.

I frowned. "Her name is Rosalie."

"Manners!" Mother warned. " And you know I really don't care what her name is." Mother flipped her hand passively. "But you have four speeches to make today, and I do not your mind to be focused on this woman, no matter how beautiful she may be."

"Yes, Mother."

"You do have your speeches ready, right?"

"Yes, Mother."

Elizabeth smiled again. "That's my boy," she said.

I began to walk down the hallway, towards my bedroom. The door was ajar and a sliver of the bright sunlight glowed onto the gray stone floor. I could hear Eric's abnormally large feet reverberating on the ground as he bustled around the room, just like every other morning.

When I entered my room, Eric rushed up to me swiftly, thrusting a long piece of parchment under my nose. "Prince Edward!" he said breathlessly. "Sir Mimsey wishes to speak with you, and he would like you to sign this contract!" He shook the parchment; it was precariously close to cutting my nostrils in two.

"I – Eric, I – What?" I said. Then, recalling Elizabeth's caution of my behavior, I rephrased. "Sir Mimsey wishes me to sign a contract for what purpose?"

"I don't know! But the top line says something about 'balderdash!'"

I grabbed the letter out of his hands, saying, "There is no such word as 'balderdash.'" I scanned the first few sentences while the servant watched in perplexed silence. "Oh!" I said. "You mean 'boat crash.'"

Eric squinched up his nose. "Why would Sir Mimsey be asking you about boat crashes?" he demanded incredulously. Then he blushed, mumbling an apology for raising his voice.

"'Dear Prince Edward Masen,'" I read aloud to Eric, ignoring his antics. "'I request your permission to host a naval race on the Liptical River. In view of the fact that this water body in under your rule rather than the king's, I shall applicate my claim to you, prince of England. We shall be using four hundred meters of the river, and approximately eighteen sea crafts. Please sign below if you consent to our inclination. This includes no punishment under the law of collisions and of illegal use of property. Thank you for your time. Sir Benjamin Mimsey.'"

Eric stared at me for a moment. "Who would want to go to a boat race, at any rate?" he asked.

"I do not know," I said. "But I am not signing this contract." I crumpled the parchment into a ball then threw it against a wall.

"Oh," said Eric. He slumped in on himself for a second, then he bounced to my desk and picked up yet another piece of parchment.

"Your schedule, Prince Edward," he said, handing it to me.

I scanned it briefly, hoping the agenda was not lengthy. I longed to write Rosalie Hale a letter requesting her a visit to the castle. I did, in fact, have four speeches to attend today, as well as one court session. It did not seem like I would have any free time in between, but I supposed I was not really hoping for much time in the first place.

It was two days after my eighteenth birthday ball, and I still had not found a wife like I was supposed to. I had, however, found that Rosalie Hale preoccupied my thoughts every time Elizabeth and Father brought up the marriage subject, and Elizabeth knew it. She immediately ensnared me with an inquisition about what had happened with Rose: _Who is she? How do you know her? Is she available? Do you like her? Who are her parents?_ I had answered each question honestly and politely, phrasing my rejection of association optimistically.

"Rosalie is not looking for a profound relationship at present," I had said when Elizabeth asked me why I hadn't proposed already. "However, I am greatly looking forward to seeing her again sometime soon."

That was what I had to the media as well, when they came after me the next day. These newspaper writers were ever eager for gossip, though they knew that no one would see their information. Newspapers were just too costly for the commoners, I knew. I had brought this subject up with Father once, but he had refused straightforwardly – I never asked again after that. I knew that my father had his reasons for everything and that I should not doubt him. He told me that I could never be too lenient with the people; being soft was a weakness. Kings do not show weakness, even for something as trivial as newspaper prices.

Sighing now, I said, "Eric, please hand me my clothing for the day."

"Sure thing, Eddie!" Eric said as he dashed towards the wardrobe. I rolled my eyes, but did not comment. Once again, Rosalie's attractive features were consuming my attention. But that was bad: Rosalie was unattainable, just a friend and nothing more. I needed to stop daydreaming about her. It was unprofessional.

"Here 'ya go!" Eric pushed a load of garments into my hands. "I will leave you to dress for a moment, and I will return with an awaiting carriage."

"Thank you, Eric," I said stiffly.

A few minutes later, I was clambering into the back of a carriage, squished between the side barrier and Mother, who was nagging me consistently.

"…And good heavens, comb your hair! Where has your head been the past week, Edward? First the manners, now all this slacking off? I don't think you should even get a chance to be king at all with this outlook."

"Mother, please," I said. "I am on a thin leash presently."

Elizabeth made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. "You are not a dog," she pointed out. "You should not be on a leash; therefore, your leash cannot be thin."

I blinked. Of course Elizabeth would analyze it. "It's just a phrase, Mother."

"Yes, well, phrase or not, I do not when to hear you complaining."

"Yes, Mother." I looked out the window, watching as the greenery bounced and blurred past us. I could hear the horses clopping against the road as they pulled us forward, and I could hear the commands of the driver. Elizabeth breathed heavily, and she too looked out the window.

"Elizabeth," I said abruptly, "where are we going, exactly?"

She thought for a moment. "For your visitations?"

I furrowed my brow. "Visitations? I thought they were merely speeches and lectures."

"Visitations, speeches, whichever." Elizabeth flipped her hand again. "Either way, they are held in the same place.

"The first one is in a little town just outside London," Elizabeth clarified, ticking the locations off on her fingers. "The second will be held inside Dakotah Hall; the third at the Hobby Center and the fourth at the Forum near the boat dock, near the English Channel."

"Oh," I said. "Right."

"Whoa!" the muffled voice of the driver yelled to the horses. Then the carriage came to a stop, and I clambered out on my side while Elizabeth exited her own side gracefully.

I rolled my shoulders back, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. This was just another speech, another lecture, another day. So why did I suddenly feel like something was different today than it had ever been before?

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**A/N: short chapter, I know, but it's a lead in for the next chapter/ExB moments. They meet in chapter five! yayayay!Plus, I think that this chapter give a little insight to Edward's personality, with the whole boat thing, and also with his infaturation with Rosalie. Don't worry, Rose won't reciprocate the feelings. This is a Bella/Edward story, after all.**

**B/N: Well, I liked it...and now she's probably gunna shoot me for waiting this long to send it back to her. Ha-ha. I've been grounded. :P I hated that. Anyways, I liked this chapter. :D  
**

**A/N: Aw, I ain't gunna shoot you. I love you too much. And I've been out, too... **

**AT DISNEYWORLD, WHERE MY DANCE TEAM RECIEVED FIRST PLACE IN THE NATION! **

**at our dance competition! For pictures of my amazing team, you can go to my profile and click on the "photos" link. I'll try to post them as soon as possible; I just got back home today. I'm so happy!!**

**Plus, I've got most of the next chapter ready. Most of it is not made up of diolague, and it picks up where Bella is running away in the forest, about two days after the wedding.**

**REVIEW! **

**Song: I forgot. Right now, it's The Pretender - Foo Fighters. Oh, just kidding. It's Tree Hugger by Antsy Pants.**


	5. Chapter Five

**I love you guys. Thanks for the patience, I've been grounded. Again.**

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BPOV

I was absolutely petrified. Every direction I turned, I saw the same thing. I had always liked going into the forest, but never before had I been so terrified in its depths. The tall trees barricaded me in, blocking out the sunlight overhead and all sounds, surrounding or otherwise. The silence pressed in on me; I felt like I couldn't breathe. The only sound that I could hear was my heartbeat, which was irregular and much too fast to be comforting.

I cried out. The sound echoed off the leaves and bounced back to me, going nowhere – there was no one to listen. I ran forward, darting between two large tree trunks with their limbs hanging precariously close to the ground. I pushed through them; the thorns on the limbs clawed at my skin, raking up my arm. I saw the blood before I felt it, but I didn't stop to examine the new cuts. I was too accustomed to it by now.

Two days. Two days of running away from Hell, yet I felt like I was just getting closer to it instead of leaving it behind. The pristine white wedding dress was no longer pristine and white; instead, it was mud-stained and brown, and the long trail at the foot of the dress was torn off completely. My hair was tangled and dirty, and every piece of flesh that covered me was now obscured with cuts and bruises. My feet ached, my head throbbed, and my stomach roared in protest against the berries, leaves, and grass. This would be going in my biography: Isabella Swan's Survival Guide One-Oh-One, The Princess's Oh-So-Perfect Life.

I felt like I was going to be sick. It distressed me to admit it, even to myself, but I longed to return to Belgium. Finding my way back to Paris was completely out of the question; I didn't even know where I was now.

I wanted to talk to Leah. I wanted to talk to Mary Alice and to Samantha. I wanted to see Seth's smiling face, and see Rebecca's scowling one. I wanted to sleep in a bed, I wanted to get out of these clothes, I wanted to eat real food, I wanted fresh water. I wanted to get _married_, even if it was to Jacob. Anything I wanted, anything but this. I couldn't take this any more.

I pushed myself ever farther, my breathing serrated and uneven. My feet made the leaves on the forest floor crack. The sound comforted me, somewhat. It let me know I still had control over something, even if that something was my own action. One foot in front of the other, continuous, reassuring, not stopping. There was no need to stop. _Crack, crack, crack._

I ran for a long time, navigating my way through the vegetation without any idea where I was headed, just following instinct.

What would everyone think of me now? I wondered how the people would judge the great Princess Isabella Swan if they saw me like this. Confounded, lost, dazed, scared: the exact person they thought I was not.

After a while, I stopped running to catch my breath. I slumped against a tree trunk and slid down to the ground, burying my head in my hands. I felt so unclean, both in the literal sense as well as otherwise. The dress spilled around my body as it always did, a reminder of what I had left, what I had sacrificed.

Why, oh, why, did I run away? Why couldn't I have stayed and married Jacob like I was supposed to? But what about all the things he did to me? Was I supposed to just stand there and take that kind of treatment? No. I couldn't believe they even considered for a moment that I would allow that sort of behavior, from anyone. If Jacob hit me once, of course he was going to do it again. And when he was king, he would run Belgium into the ground. If I were his wife, the queen, I would also get blamed for aiding him in the country's downfall. I didn't want that. I wanted to make my legacy known as the strong woman, the girl who didn't tolerate a failure.

At one point in time, I wanted to be the girl with the most amazing of amazing romances, wanted to be her so much more than I wanted to be known as an accomplished leader. But that time was over, gone. There was no point in hoping for it any way. No one would like me in that sort of way, I knew. So many stories I had heard and read… fairy tales of beautiful princesses that were rescued by a knight in shining armor. I assumed that if I ever got a fairy tale ending like that, my knight in shining armor would turn out to be a loser in aluminum foil.

Time after time I would imagine myself as the heroine of the story – not the pathetic princess locked in a tower, but the one who escaped from the fortress of fire by myself. Then I would waltz out of the danger and meet my true love, who would take me on his white horse and we would ride into the sunset.

But my fairy tale was now. I was in the middle of the danger, in the forest living off wild vegetation and obscured with scratches, yet there was no Prince Charming to wait for me once I got out of this.

I slumped against the tree trunk, the dirt squelching under the shift in my position. As I moved, the cut in my arm throbbed painfully; I had never had many cuts like this one before. This pounded like a thousand white-hot knives, like being stabbed in the crease of my arm repeatedly.

Hissing through my teeth, I looked down at the cut I not yet had inspected. I knew it was bleeding badly, but how much I did not know. It ran from the bottom of my palm to right below the crease in my elbow, in my right arm. The blood leaked down the side of my arm; I looked down at my sallow white wedding dress. It had multiple red droplets on the bottom, already. I let out a shaky breath. The scratch was long and nearly intolerable for me to bear; I had never had a cut like this one before. Mother had made sure of that.

I didn't feel like getting up to move again. Where would I go anyway? I didn't know where I was. I cupped the scratch with my left hand, trying to hinder the blood.

While I was resting, I decided I should examine the remaining aches on my body. My leg muscles felt unrested, as though they were going to split open at any second. My feet were throbbing, as I hadn't been off them much in days, brown, rough, and callused. My stomach clenched and unclenched unbearably, upset with the lack of nourishing food, and the numerous scrapes and bruises on my legs, arms, neck, and face were tender to even the brush of the wind.

Eventually, my whole body grew numb, my mind included. I didn't know how long I stared up at the top of the trees, mindlessly watching to see if I could tell the difference between the nighttime and the day in this thick, ample forest.

After a while, the silence probably drove me mad. I felt like my life was wasted, even though it was so perfect only mere weeks ago. I was considering sitting against the tree forever until suddenly I would not move any longer – suicide. No one would find me. No one would care.

With that thought, I eventually sank into an unfeeling oblivion.

I woke up with a start. My third day on the run, and I was still not accustomed to waking in the darkness of the forest. But it was not this that had woken me.

There was a rustling coming from somewhere nearby, a sound of branches and leaves scraping against each other. Upon hearing the sound, I used my arms to hoist myself into a more upright position; I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain in the small movement. This was not a good factor.

Part of my mind – the insane part, maybe – told me that this sound may not be dangerous. I had the feeling that maybe this may be a person in the bushes, looking for the princess of France.

I could hear my heart pounding, as fast as if I were running.

"Hello?" My voice was barely above a whisper, hushed with fright.

No answer. Just the rustling in the shrubbery, and the thudding of my heart in my ears.

I tried again, a little louder. "Is anyone there?"

There was a tangible pause, a silence that lingered in the air as I waited for a sound, my breathing stopping altogether.

Then I heard a low rumbling, a soft growl that certainly did not belong to any human being. In the brief shock of hearing the noise, my thoughts were all jumbled and going off in every direction. My first thought was that I was surprised – I expected to have run into a wild animal before this. It was my third day in the forest, and my blood was everywhere; of course I knew a confrontation with an animal was inevitable. All the wile, the thought of suicide was lodged into the back of my brain, knocking at my heartstrings with astounding force. There was no point in me living anyway. Who really wanted me here? I doubted I would ever see Alice, Sam, Leah, or Seth again… I wasn't sure I even _wanted_ to see Mother, Father, or the Blacks. What was the point in continuing this struggle to survive, when it was so clear that I would not be getting out of the forest any time in the near future? If there was an animal nearby, it would make sense for me to just let that animal take me. Killing myself, I knew, was a sin – if my body was ever found, I would not want to go down in history as the princess who gave up her strength and succumbed to her own thoughts, her own insanity. But wasn't that what I was doing right now, succumbing to my thoughts of suicide?

I didn't have much time to ponder it at all. The rustling of the leaves increased, and I was still on the forest floor, leaning against the mossy tree trunk that I had fallen asleep on the previous night; I scrambled to my feet swiftly. The animal growled again. What kind of animal would be hiding out in the forests of Belgium? I assumed it was not a good time to stand there and think about it while the animal approached, and suicide was out of the picture completely – so I ran. Though my muscles screamed in protest, stinging and shooting fire throughout my body, I pushed myself forward, dodging the tall, ominous trees and navigating my way through the thorns and shrubbery with a speed that surprised myself.

I had once thought that the forest and I were meant to be together, that I was one with it, and it was one with me, like two lovers who were forbidden from seeing each other. That was actually a thought before I left the Black's palace, how much I loved the woods. Now, as I ran over dirt and Lord-knows-what-else, I knew that running into the forest was perhaps the worst scheme I had ever appraised. And my reasoning for making this decision was all because a man I did not like punched me in the face. In the end, which was really better: getting hit habitually by a husband, or being chased by a wild animal in a forest, where I had no idea where I was? I supposed I would never know the answer.

After a while, my chest was burning with exertion. Stopping, I tried to listen over my heartbeats for the beast. I could not hear it, but that did not mean that it was gone.

I bent over double, wiping my sweaty palms on the dress, then leaning onto my knees for support while I caught my breath.

A moment later, I hadn't heard nor seen the animal; I assumed it was gone. I smiled a weak, grim smile to myself – proof of my insanity – and turned to lean with my hands against a tree trunk.

I had _assumed_ it was gone. But when I heard the soft padding of paw prints on the forest floor, I knew it wasn't.

Sucking in a breath, I clutched at the tree trunk for the impact of the animal's attack. This was the end – I supposed I would get killed anyway. At least I knew I had tried, I had turned from my temptation of self-sacrifice. I held absolutely motionless; not even my chest was moving with the rise and fall of my breathing. If this was the end, what was the point?

"Hold right there!" someone shouted. A split-second later and I felt the still air around me still, and I heard the explosion of a gun firing. There was a growl, a whimper, a crunching of leaves, and complete silence.

I didn't dare move, but inside I was rejoicing. The beast was dead, and there was a human here, a human that had saved me! I owed him my life. If I ever returned to France, I would declare him the Most Honorable Noble.

"Hey, you!" the voice shouted. I did not answer. I did not move. "Are you mad?!"

There were footsteps that trudged over the greenery, coming closer to where I was still leaning on the tree.

"Girl!" the man said, his voice sounding aggravated. "Can you speak?"

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut, and nodded my head slowly. I removed my hands from the tree trunk and wiped them on my dress. Breathing deeply and filling my now-heaving lungs, I opened my eyes and turned to face my savior.

He was an old man with a hairy white beard and thin, wiry eyebrows that shot up into his hairline. He did not look like he was from this century whatsoever – he sported a dirty white shirt with holes in it beneath a pair of ragged denim overalls. No overcoat. No trousers. No loafers. I noticed he was barefoot. In his hand he clutched a long black gun; I wondered how he could afford it. If he could not pay for a simple overcoat then he certainly could not pay for the gunpowder needed to possess and operate a firearm of any kind.

"Oh, sir, thank you so much, I –" I began. My voice was wheezing with the energy my run had taken from me, not to mention my brush with death – regardless of how trivial and inconsequential the death could have been compared to another fashion. But I was relieved I could still talk at all, after not using it hardly at all for three days.

I concentrated on good news while I unsuccessfully attempted regaining my breath. I was not dead. I was alive, thanks to this man in front of me, no matter how eccentric he may look on the outside.

Mother had always told me not to judge one by their outward appearance; I tried to put that into perspective as the man began to speak, his voice abrasive and gruff.

"Now that you've spoken," he said, "I don't want you to speak no more. Hush and let me do all the talkin'."

I stared at him mutely, my chest rising and falling intermittently. At the sound of his husky voice, my heart was lodged in my stomach, clenching up with the fright that had not yet disappeared from the animal pursuit.

"Now." The man stared me straight in the eye, yet he scratched his beard as though he did not care about me whatsoever. "Whatchew think you're doing, wandering around this here forest with no shoes and a bleeding wedding dress on?" His voice was calm. He lowered his hand from his chin to rest heedlessly on his gun. "Have you lost your mind?"

Was I allowed to speak? He had me not to. I was not positive that I _could _speak, even if I had wanted to.

"I –"I began, stuttering. As much as I did not want to admit it, I needed to _lie._ Being raised all my life never to perjure myself, I did not know how I was to get myself out of this situation. Perhaps I had lost my mind, just like this peculiar man was accusing of me. Even if he asked, I was not planning on telling the man who I was or with whom I was in the company of. If he found out I was to wed Prince Jacob Black, he would certainly bequeath me back to the Black's palace. I knew indubitably that I would not – could not – return to the Blacks. If lying was necessary to keep me out of their presence, so be it.

Although I was not sure I was going to be able to complete my task, I tried again. I knew I had to keep my facial expression vulnerable and believable at the same time; I hoped I was arranging my appearance correctly. "I was separated from my group." My stomach fluttered with the untruth; my heart that was still in my stomach tossed in celebration. I had done it! The lie was short and it was simple, reminding me that nothing else was ever that uncomplicated.

"But you never said why you was wearin' a dress." The man did not notice my internal merriment.

"I was riding to a party," I fibbed. Brief replies seemed to be decent enough for both myself and the man, for he did not want me to speak and I did not want to speak. So why was I still answering? I could just thank him for saving me and then I could leave. But I had no other place to go, and talking to someone after so long was pleasant. It did not matter to me at this point who's company I was in. "Thank you so much for killing that animal, I will have to –"

The man held up his hand to stop me, narrowing his eyes. "Speak one more time 'bout that blasted animal and I'll shoot 'cha." He slapped his palm against the gun; it clanged loudly in the isolated woods.

I cringed away from the weapon, wide-eyed. My heartbeat, which had settled a little, picked up again at an alarming speed.

"Ha, ha," the man laughed after a moment. He threw his head back with mirth at my expression. "Yeh don' really think I'd shoot 'cha, do ya'?" he asked.

I pursed my lips and said nothing. I held my breath; my lungs felt like they were going to detonate.

The man thrusted a hand towards me. "Name's Corin. I'm a fisherman."

I stared at his hand, wondering if he expected me to shake it. I took the very tips of his dirty fingers in my hand and bounced them up and down once before I let go.

I made up a name off the top of my head, since I was certainly not telling him my real identity. "Sarah Grace," I said.

"Well, Sarah Grace, it's nice meetin' yeh. Don' get run over by no reindeers." Corin hoisted his gun over his shoulder. "Best ya' go find yer group. Expect they'll be lookin' for yeh later on."

He turned to leave. If he was a fisherman, then mustn't there be a body of water nearby, or a civilization? Could I not ask Corin where I was, at the least?

"Corin, wait," I said. I hadn't moved from my spot next to the tree. Corin stopped and swiveled his head around to me, his expression expectant. He seemed to accept my discourse now. "Do you know where I am?"

"Sure, I do."

I blinked when he didn't say more than that. "Where is that?"

"Right off the coast o' Belgium," Corin said. He pointed ahead of him, the direction he was heading towards. "Walk a few more paces and the English Channel is perfectly visible."

The English Channel – it was perfect! I would be completely out of the country, where no one would find me. Somehow, I would make contact with Samantha or Mary Alice and I would go back to Paris. But until then, a trip to England sounded delightful.

"Could you take me there?" I asked Corin.

"Sure thing, Sarah Grace. Just tell meh when yer ready."

I smiled. "Now seems like the perfect time."

About an hour or so later, I was climbing out of the little wooden rowboat gracelessly, holding up the hem of the filthy dress as I stepped up onto the dock.

"Thank you for helping me, Corin. You did not have to do this, especially after shooting that ani–" He cut me off with a loud swear.

"No more with the apologies," Corin said, giving me a look as he stared up from his seat on the boat. "Now, I'll be expectin' a letter from yeh once a month, yeh hear?"

I laughed. "Yes, I promise to write to you once a month," I promised. I looked around. "Now where do I go from here?"

"Yer on the dock right now. If you walk out of the dock, you'll see a lot o' roads. Go straight and you'll be in a place called the Forum – it's the main area of the city."

I nodded. "I am in… London, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Walk out of the dock and straight to the Forum? They will tell me what to do there?"

"Yeah," Corin said. "Watch out for rampant horses, and don' get yerself lost."

"I understand. Thank you, Corin!" He began paddling away from the dock, and I waved him goodbye.

I followed the dock backwards until I found the roadways. Walking straight for a while, I saw a cool, bleak sky outlined by large, tall trees. Up in the distance, I thought I could see a stone castle that looked designed very much like my own in France. I doubted I would ever go in there anyway, yet I wanted to see how the inside of the English castle compared to my own French one.

A short while later, I was being jostled around by a large crowd of people. It seemed to me that every person was heading the opposite direction I was in, and all the local talk was revolved around one specific topic. No one paid me more than one glance.

As I pushed my way through the throng, I caught snippets of conversations that I pieced together. A man named… ah, I did not catch the name… had just given a very inspiring and advanced speech for… some special occasion I never heard… and the event had just ended. I was very glad I had missed the speech, for I would have found it extraordinarily dull.

Instead of trying to listen to discussions that did not interest me, I kept glancing up every few seconds at the castle. It seemed to be sitting on a mountaintop; it was blanketed in swirling, graceful mist, the gray sky a backdrop to the tall peaks of the stone. I felt my body unconsciously shift towards that pathway, and soon enough I was out of all of the people and walking my way up a steep hill, the castle getting closer and clearer with each step. I could not take my eyes off the elegance of the castle, not even to watch where I was going.

I did not hear nor did I see the horse until I had walked right into it. It's clopping hooves stopped right after I came in contact with its hindquarters; I fell onto the dirty street with an "oof."

The horse neighed and stamped its feet. Looking up from the ground, I came face-to-face with a beautiful, remarkable white horse. Though it was enormous, it managed to carry an air of grace to it, as though it belonged to an established prince of some sort.

A crisp voice cut through the calm air, sharp against my daydreams of the serene castle.

"Would you watch were you are going?" the voice demanded, the English accent heavy. Because of my position on the ground and the angle of the horse's head, I could not see the face of the person. But I knew it was a man – women did not ride horses.

I was immediately defensive. "Me?" I demanded. "You are the one with the horse. Why don't you try looking out for everyone else?" I rose to my feet to place my hands on my hips. When I moved, the horse moved to get out of my way, snorting, and when it did, I saw the face of the man.

I gasped. Certainly, that could not be the same face I had seen only one before in the newspaper, the same face that Alice, Sam, and I would gush over every time we got together for tea? Prince Edward Masen surely could not be this unkind. I hid my surprise and glared at this look-a-like.

"Well you need to get your head out of the clouds and pay attention," the man retaliated.

"'Get your head out of the clouds?'" I quoted angrily. "Well ex-cuse me, Little Mister I-Own-the-World–"

"Do not say it, or I shall have you beheaded!"

"Ha!" I snorted. "You would not behead me!"

This man huffed, than his voice lowered to where it was profound and daunting. "And how would a common girl like you know?" he asked. "How would you stop me?"

I cocked my head to the side. I was enjoying this, especially after being isolated in the woods earlier. A row was just what I needed to make a little of this runaway situation a bit better; the outlet I did not have in the forest.

"What if I were to say I was a princess," I said, stepping closer to the man on his horse. "What if I were to say that _I_ could behead _you_ first?"

The man sneered arrogantly. "_You_ could never be a princess anyway, so I do not see how this discussion is valid at any rate."

"Get off your high horse," I said, "and stop being such a _dog_."

His smirk flickered and his eyes flashed, but he did not move and he did not speak. He didn't have a response.

"Well," the man sniffed. "What if _I_ were to say I was the prince of England?"

"That's funny," I said, keeping one hand planted on my hip and bringing up the other to press my lips. "Because I thought that the princes don't talk to 'the lower class' like myself."

"But did you not just say you were the princess?"

"I did."

"Of which country?"

I pretended to think for a moment. "France."

The man's eye twitched and a strange look crossed his face, but it was gone before I could really inspect it. I saw his eyes rake over my body and his mouth turn down in distaste.

"Now, if you do not mind, I would like to continue with my stride," I said, starting to brush past the man and his horse.

I did not look back when I heard his horse coming along behind me, nor did I turn around when I heard his voice.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked.

"Isabella."

He did not answer. The only sound I could hear now was the horse's hooves clopping against the road.

We climbed to the top of the mountain in silence, the man and his horse keeping pace with my gait the whole time, and soon I was looking up at the colossal castle with large, amused eyes.

The man climbed off his white horse and stared at me.

"Well?" he demanded. "You are not just going to stand there! Be gone!"

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**B/N: Okay, just to clear up some things: Edward said "Be Gone" to Bella right?**

**I LOVED THIS CHAPTER. YAY Edward came in!...although, he's such an asshole. Ugh. Anyways...I've got my own chapters to write! :)**

**A/N: Yay, Leah's writing again! I'm eating eggos(:**

**REVIEW. Please?**

**Song: Invisible, Taylor Swift; Come In With the Rain, Taylor Swift  
**


	6. Chapter Six

**Sorry, yall, I know it's been a while... but I finally finished My Notebook Will Explain. Leah, again, I'm sorry I didn't send this to you, my mom's like GodZilla right now.... yeah hope you like it, I'll update after I come back from the beach!!**

**Last chapter Recap:**

**"What is your name, girl?" he asked.**

**"Isabella."**

**He did not answer. The only sound I could hear now was the horse's hooves clopping against the road.**

**We climbed to the top of the mountain in silence, the man and his horse keeping pace with my gait the whole time, and soon I was looking up at the colossal castle with large, amused eyes.**

**The man climbed off his white horse and stared at me.**

**"Well?" he demanded. "You are not just going to stand there! Be gone!"**

**EPOV**

The girl ignored me and stood there, staring up at my castle in astonishment. She had said her name was Isabella… no. She could not possibly be the same princess that Jessica had been speaking of. What would she be doing in England, and why would someone so respectable be so covered in filth? She was just fooling around when she pretended to be a princess, and it was just a coincidence that her name was Isabella. At any rate, Princess Isabella from France was supposedly being wed to Prince Jacob today, or else a few days previously.

I led my horse to the stables, ignoring the girl completely; she was still examining the castle. Commoners were not supposed to come this close to the castle. I shall have her removed from the land forcibly if she does not leave soon.

Swinging my leg around the horse, I jumped to the ground where my feet hit the rocks with a loud _crunch_. I stripped the saddle off the beast, hanging it up. I led him to his stable and locked him inside.

"So," a voice said behind me. I whirled around to see the girl, Isabella, leaning unblushingly against a wall. How did she still have the insides to speak to me?

"Get off my land or I will make you," I said flatly.

Isabella did not move, nor did she look troubled by my words. On the contrary, her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Mark my words, girl, I –"

"Edward!" Elizabeth's voice trilled. "Whatever is going on out here?"

I sighed and scowled at Isabella, who was looking outside with wide eyes. Of course I could trust Elizabeth to get into the middle of things at exactly the wrong times.

Elizabeth bustled into the stables, looking straight past the girl and at me. "Who are you talking to?" she asked.

"I was trying to get this woman here –" I gestured to Isabella, who had resumed leaning against the stable wall with a pleasant expression, "off of our land, but she –"

"Oh!" shrieked Elizabeth, noticing Isabella and rushing over to her. "Oh, you poor girl! What on earth has happened to you to be so covered in filth?" She fiddled around with Isabella for a moment, brushing dirt off her dress. I was appalled at Elizabeth's behavior – queens were supposed to be apathetic to commoners, not helping them.

"Mother," I groaned under my breath, knowing full well she would not hear me.

"You poor dear," Elizabeth fussed, picking leaves out of the girl's hair. She reminded me of an ape, and I was ashamed. I composed my face into my well-practiced mask of calm and hid my embarrassment.

"No, no, it is quite alright," Isabella said, wearing a sheepish expression. "I've just been through a rough time, is all, there's no need to cause a ruckus, I –"

"Don't fret, dear, we'll have you all fixed up in no time!" Elizabeth crowed, clearly charmed by Isabella's persona already. How could someone like _her_ charm the Queen of England? I shivered. "We'll take you in the castle and clean you up, and perhaps a cup of pumpkin juice?"

"Ma'am, there really is no need, I am sure that I will be fine –"

Elizabeth continued talking as though Isabella had not spoken, wrapping her arm around the girl's shoulders as she led her out of the stables and towards the castle. "…And you could stay in the guest room until I make absolutely certain it is okay for you to leave. We'll set up a…" Her voice faded.

I huffed. From the first moment I met her, I did not like Isabella. Why did my mother have to be such a kind person? Kindness was a weakness for a ruler, and rulers could not afford to have weaknesses.

I do not think that I have ever been so contemptuous towards a person in a very long time.

_Was that my weakness, scorn and hatred?_ I asked myself. I would have to put my personality in order before I could move on in my education to become king.

King Edward Masen the Second, ruler of England. It sounded impressive, I decided. Patting my horse once on the back, I strode in the wake of my mother towards the castle.

* * *

I found Elizabeth sitting alone in the parlor.

"Where is the girl?" I asked her.

"Isabella?" she clarified, as though I was supposed to care what her name was. "She is being washed up by the maids. Why do you ask?"

"Mother, I do not think that keeping her here like a stray dog is a good thought."

"Oh, hush, Edward. She is a very sweet girl, and beneath all that dirt I'm sure she is a beautiful young lady." Elizabeth paused. "You know, she reminds me a lot of what I have heard about the princess of France. Her name is Isabella, too, correct?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Yes. At any rate, Isabella was wearing a _very_ fine dress, it must have cost a fortune! When Meghan brought it down for washing I took a look at it – it was very intricate, and made of fine fabrics. For all the dress looked, it _could_ have belonged to the princess of France!"

"Do you not think that is a little… odd?" I said.

"Not really. Edward, all women wear dresses." Elizabeth rolled her eyes at me. "When I asked her how she ended up near the castle, she said she had gotten separated from the group she was traveling with. Told me she was headed to a party. Which explains the dress, I presume."

"Mother, I really do not think that keeping the gi – I mean, keeping Isabella – here is a good idea."

"And why is that, Edward Anthony?" she asked loudly. "Do you think you are too _high class_ for her? You need to get off your high horse, young man!"

Get off your high horse… Isabella had said that as well. She had also told me I was a dog. What a way to insult a royal.

"I just think that this will lead us into a very large predicament," I said calmly. "The media will have a lot to tell when they find out."

"And that," Elizabeth said with a tone of finality, "is even more of a reason for her to stay. We'll not let her out of the castle. She will stay in the guest bedroom until I see it fit she can leave. She also will join us for meals, and have her clothes imported along with ours as long as she is here. And if you feel the need to complain, Edward, I will send you to the stables to help the servants clean."

"But, Mother –" I began to protest.

She silenced me with a look. "No, I do not want to hear it, Edward." She rose from her chair. "Now, as soon as Isabella returns from her bath I would like you to show her to the guest room _personally_ and _cordially._ Don't fuss, Edward, this is good practice for you when you are the king."

"Yes, Mother."

Elizabeth walked towards the stairwell and began to ascend. She stopped, turned, and said, "You do know, Edward, that how you treat Miss Isabella will reflect on your kingsmanship. I am not fooling around when I said I would send you to work with the servants." She faced forward once again and strode to her room.

I sat down on the seat Elizabeth had just vacated and rubbed my temples with my fingers. I was an eighteen-year-old man with my own difficulties to care for, and I had absolutely no room for anything more. Especially Isabella. She was just some silly girl who had strolled casually into my world, a commoner among the royals. I disliked her from the beginning, since she first opened her mouth, and I certainly did not want her to stay here for an unknown length of time. I did not what her to stay here for any time at all, but I knew that Elizabeth – in charge while Father was away – had the ultimate control over the castle and everyone inside its walls.

Just as I was thinking this I heard the light footsteps of someone descending the stairs. When I looked to see who it was, my head make a double-take.

It had seemed Elizabeth was right – under all the filth and grime, Isabella was quite a beautiful girl.

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**A/N: Short, I know, sorry, the next chapter will be longer... Edward and Bella bond. Thumbs up.**

**Songs: Meant, Said, Felt - the Title; Runaway - Artist vs. Poet**

**REVIEW. Please. Or PM/IM me. Whatever floats your boat. liveYOURlife075, AIM, not MSN.**

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	7. Chapter Seven

**I did pretty well with updating, I think. It's not long, but it's something. Cliff-hanger. Beware.**

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**BPOV**

-

When I stepped into the parlor, Prince Edward was sitting there alone, clearly waiting for me to return from my bath. I knew his mother, Queen Elizabeth, had forced him to wait for me, because he would not under any other circumstance. Prince Edward _loathed_ me, more than I ever disliked Rachel or Rebecca Black, and I intended to tease him for it; as was my specialty. Miss Isabella Swan, the fun-loving one, full of pranks and scheming. That was what they all said. I briefly wondered what everyone thought now, if they were wondering where I was, or if I was even still alive.

In reality, I kind of felt bad for doing this to Edward – after all, if I had come to any other castle and lingered around I would have been killed immediately, whether I was the princess of France or not, but Elizabeth had been so kind as to let me stay. I would be in her debt for a very long time. But I was going to milk this cow for all it was worth; not that I had ever milked a cow before in my life, of course.

When he saw me, he stood and inclined his head. "Isabella," he said curtly.

I laughed. "Prince Edward," I replied genially. He did not return the tone.

"Allow me to show you to where you will stay whilst you are here." Edward brushed past me and strode up the staircase. I raised my eyebrows and followed him.

Looking at the castle from the outside did not do the actual structure justice; it was actually a lot bigger than it seemed. Edward led me through dark, cold hallways and up narrow, winding stairwells. I was sure he was only leading me this way to make me think the whole castle was like this, but I knew it was not. When Elizabeth and the servants took me to the bath room, I was led past gleaming marble staircases and shining suits of armor, past glistening chandeliers that were alight with dancing flames.

I had had enough when I walked straight into an enormous spider web. The spider fell from the strings and dropped to the floor, where it scuttled past us towards a crack in the wall. Edward picked up his foot as though to step on it.

"Stop it!" I yelled at him, kicking his foot away.

He looked at me in bewilderment. "Isabella, this is a castle. I do not know how your previous living arrangements were dissimilar or otherwise but it is kept _clean_ here." The spider slipped by and crawled into the wall. "Look what you did, Isabella," he said, sighing in accusation.

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm sorry that I allowed a living creature to keep its life," I said. "But I'll be sure to kill it and let it's guts sprawl all over the floor next time."

Edward gnashed his teeth together. "And also," I added, "my name is not Isabella. I prefer to be called Bella, if you don't mind. Now, take me back to the parlor and show me the _correct_ way to my room or else I shall have someone else do it for me."

He stared at me for a moment in shock before turning around and heading back the way we came.

"Here is your room, _Bella_." Edward stressed the word.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," I said in a sing-song voice. I had expected Edward to grind his teeth again, but instead I saw the ghost of a smile flit across his face. It was gone before I could be sure.

Edward reached for the door handle and turned it. The door opened silently. "It is not the largest room in the castle, but I am sure it will be suitable for your… brief… stay here."

I stepped inside and gasped. "Not much?" I said in awe. "You must be joking!"

Edward gave me a look that questioned my sanity. "Why would I be joking?" he asked seriously.

I did not reply. Instead I walked into the room, looking around.

"_Mon dieu_," I whispered in French.

"Excuse me?" said Edward. I didn't answer.

This room, which was apparently a guest room, had to be much larger than even Mother and Father's room back in France. A furry rug covered the wooden floor, and upon seeing it I kicked my borrowed shoes off and ran onto it, burying my feet in its warmth.

"This feels so nice after –" I stopped myself. Edward looked at me but said nothing; I examined the room to cover my second blunder of five minutes.

In the center of the room was an exquisite bed, draped in brown coverings that hung to the floor. A mahogany headboard lined the top of the bed, and a sheer, billowing peach canopy hung over it from the ceiling. In the far right corner was an enormous writing desk with an oil lamp resting on top; in the other right corner were rows and rows of bookshelves that were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, filled with books of all shapes and sizes. The left side of the room was dominated by a vast window that looked out over the smoky grey mountains; the view was picturesque. The spaces on the sides of the window were occupied on one side by an antique chest of drawers, and on the other two chairs were placed to face each other.

I walked to the huge bed and tried to jump on top: unsuccessful. The bed was too tall and I fell, falling and getting tangled in the hangings.

"Bella!" Edward shouted as I thrashed about on the floor. He ran to me and collapsed to his knees, and I could feel his strong hands pulling the cloth. Moving any more than rolling around was useless – I was now so entangled in the canopy that my arms were immovable next to my body.

After a moment, Edward had released my arms from its incarcerate in the canopy and focused instead on getting my legs out. He repositioned himself so that he was in a kneeling position, with one knee on the ground and the other up.

"Isabella, I am going to pick you up and set you on one of my knees. I want you to wrap your arms around my neck so you do not fall and I will get you out of this. I can see the end of the cloth, so this should not be too difficult."

"Bella," I corrected him automatically. Edward slid his arms under my torso and lifted me to his knee; I looped my arms around his neck as instructed. I felt somewhat awkward, see as to how our relationship had began as a rocky start – a _very _rocky start, so rocky there was no hope at all for a flower to ever grow without the pure love of God – but there was not much else I could do without being tangled in the damn canopy all my life.

I laughed at myself.

"What is so funny?" Edward asked distractedly.

"It's nothing, really," I said. "It's just that of course this happens to me the first time I ever enter – much less look at – the castle of England. Getting all tangled up inside this bloody canopy."

I sighed. Edward said nothing; he just continued to unwrap my legs.

I was basically talking to myself now. "And of course I was chosen to marry that bastard of a man, with his evil older sisters and that _awful_ gown… and then I get taken inside the English castle, shown around by the prince, but they all think that I am a common girl…"

The pressure of Edward's hands stopped. I looked down; the canopy was gone and was back to floating around the bed serenely.

"What on earth are you on about?" demanded Edward in his impressive accent. He set me on the carpet and stood, his frame like a tall black tower above me.

"Oh, _merde_!" I exclaimed once I realized what I had said. I hadn't meant to say any of that aloud, and I knew immediately what Edward would make of the words.

"Are you saying that you are lying to us?" he roared. "The royal Masens? Are you implying that you are merely 'putting on an act' so you could sneak inside our castle? Are you of the enemy side? I cannot believe this is happening. I knew this was a bad idea, and I tried to talk Elizabeth out of it! Spy! That is who you are!" he did not pause long enough for me to even open my mouth. "I knew you were no good from when you first spoke to me. For a moment there you had me fooled – I thought that maybe I could get used to you. You were just a common girl but you had personality, even if I just met you a few short hours ago. I thought if I took the time to know you I would not dislike you as I did before.

But now I loathe you, girl. Loathe you for who you are and what you have done here. How dare you even have the nerve to be looking at me in the eye, preparing to defend yourself? How dare you act as though you are deserving enough to bear my mother's clothing upon your back? The royal Masens?"

"Edward, if you would give me a chance to explain, I could –"

"_Prince _Edward to you, girl!" Edward said. "And I do not wish to hear your petty excuses when I have other things to do! I want you out by the evening, or I shall have you beheaded. Do not play games with me, girl, for I will be king in a few fleeting years and I _never_ go back on my word."

He turned on his heel and marched out the door sooner than I could gather up my breath to protest.

Miss Isabella Swan, the beautiful, fun-loving princess of France. Daughter of King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee, sister to the next heir, Emmett Swan… set to be wed with Prince Jacob Black of Belgium, believed to be one of the most admired princesses of all history… that was who I was three days ago.

Miss Isabella Swan, the princess who ran away from her wedding to Prince Jacob Black of Belgium because he had abused me in more than one way. Daughter of King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee, the parents she did not say anything to before she left, sister to the next heir, Emmett Swan… she did not say anything to him, either. Now she is one of the biggest pieces of gossip in the country and is currently living in hiding but she is about to be kicked out by the gorgeous Prince of England. That was me now.

How could my life change so quickly? A little less than a month ago, I was the girl that every female wanted to be. Attractive, youthful, and charismatic little princess. I had gorgeous dresses and a handsome husband-to-be-whether-I-liked-it-or-not. I broke rules; I walked around barefooted and had tea with maidservants. I loosened my corset every day in private and I ate in an unladylike fashion when I was home.

I missed Samantha and Mary Alice and Leah; I missed smacking Emmett's shoulder when he took the last of the baguette from the basket and him laughing heartily at me; I missed Mother and her etiquette lessons every morning… I would give anything to have things back to the way they were before.

Jacob. It would make my life so much easier if I could only blame all my problems on Jacob Black. Before his letter had come in telling me he was preparing for our wedding, my life was perfect – so perfect it was picturesque. A perfect picture, seen behind pristine glass; everyone marveled at it and says, "it's beautiful."

But eventually, the glass with get dirty and you can't see the picture anymore, and the center of the picture that was once perfect will have a crack down the center. End of perfection.

Leaning now against the Masen's bed I knew I would have to explain to Edward everything. I had planned on pretending that I was just a lucky villager… who ironically had the same name as the French princess and spoke the language.

Who was I kidding?

I picked up my knees – not caring about the fact I was wearing a dress, but there were seven other layers underneath so I would be fine in that area – and put my forehead in between, squeezing my eyes shut so hard it was painful.

Exhaling loudly, I lifted my head and took down the clasps that were holding up the traditional bun in my hair. It tumbled down my back and into my face; I ran my fingers through it and spread it out. I felt a little better, but I was sure that nothing at all could comfort me at this particular moment.

Calm. Collected. I had been told to be calm and collected at all times throughout my childhood; I had mastered the stance so well by this point that it was practically second nature.

I stood and straightened the folds in Elizabeth's dress. Holding my head high and my back straight like I had been taught, I walked to the door and into the corridor.

I caught a glimpse of a figure just down the hall, in the shadows.

"Edward?" I called, walking towards the person. "Edward is that you? Listen, there's something I have to say."

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**EPOV up next. That'll be shorter, I think, I don't like writing Edwar'd point of view.**

**Gotta go.**

**Godzilla Mom. You know.**

**I'll tell you about camp later.**

**Leah, I love you.**

**Reader, I love you too.**

**I'll love you more if you review.**

**Bye.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Yikeesssss.**

**Short chapter, sorry, I wrote it in like an hour. SO get over yourselves, reread the last chapter, and review.**

**EPOV**

-

I did not understand why I was so angry. There were spies in the castle all the time, and I never got quite as fuming as I was now. Spies were something that every royal family had to deal with. They wormed their way into every palace to find out information from behind the enemies lines. From time to time, they would enter as slaves, or as wealthy merchants – once many years ago, a spy entered the castle disguised as a donkey.

But now that I had uncovered Isabella's true purpose of behind here I was quite possibly angrier than I had ever been in all of my eighteen years of life. I felt the rolls of hatred for the girl worming around in my gut like a snake; the fury of the betrayal licked my insides raw, and I felt sickened. I did not understand.

Isabella was just another spy, and nothing more. Never before had this happened, so why now?

I asked myself this question as I stormed down the staircase and down the corridor to my room, where I bolted the door shut. I just needed to think, without Elizabeth or a servant bursting in. I knew Bella would not dare enter my room. She knew her life was worth than that.

Bella seemed like such a carefree girl – the complete opposite of myself. Deep inside of me, I had been hoping that possibly, if I warmed up to her and if she stayed long enough, that she could be the one that would help me "loosen up," as Elizabeth put it. I knew I was somewhat pompous, and very edgy. I considered myself to be elusive to all other people, the people I did not get along with. Bella seemed… I did not know how to put it. Different, I suppose. Not like other girls.

But all my hopes were shattered now. Isabella must be banished from the castle for ever. The Masen family could not afford to have undercovers here, where there were so many meetings and plans hidden throughout the castle.

But I still had not answered my own question – why was I feeling such a rush of hatred to her? She was nothing extraordinary to me. I had disliked her from the beginning, and I was dim-witted to have not suspected her in the first place. She was far too defensive, with her head in the clouds. Mother doted on Isabella because of the fake friendliness Bella put on, the infectious laughter that her smile seemingly carried. That was probably why she was best for the spying job, wherever she was from.

Bella had an accent, somewhere southern, like France, for example. I should have a better knowledge of the countries around me, as I was to be king in a few short years' time, but at this moment, I could care less about her accent. I did not know why I was wasting daylight musing over her voice.

She had better be preparing to leave this castle – and hopefully this country. She should be returning Elizabeth's clothing and thanking my servants for treating her so kindly.

"_But they all think I'm a common girl…"_ she had said. What else could that have meant besides practically screaming that she was a spy? I felt the rage inside of me squirm again.

But then, as my antagonistic thoughts dominated most of my feelings, there was a small stir of a different emotion, something I was quite shocked to feel. Disappointment was a rare sensation for me – I had been raised not to feel such trivial emotions. I swallowed, and now I was frightened, as well as bemused. What would Father say if he found out that I was disappointed – in a common spy, no less! – and how would he react to that? Would he push back my kingsmanship to a later date, under the assumption that I could not handle the title?

I growled out in frustration. If only I had not permitted myself to let my guard down, if I had forbidden Elizabeth from allowing Bella to stay as I should have, none of this would have been happening. I would not be feeling this way, I would not be having second opinions about my future, and I most certainly would not be questioning myself in my path like I was. Bella must be a hurricane, destroying anything and everything in her path until she got what she wanted.

Was this what she wanted? Was she aiming to muddle the thoughts of the future King of England? That must have been one of the reasons she was chosen for the undercover task. Isabella was alluring in all seriousness – a catching smile, a cheerful disposition, and a lustful demeanor. She even had the distressed walk that was somewhat awkward, giving off the impression she was more vulnerable than she let on. I noticed all these things in the short time I was with her.

But still, I reflected, I had even more unanswered questions than I had before. The only thing I had accomplished in my ponderings was figuring out why Isabella was chosen as the spy instead of a man, as was the general tradition.

Why was I so brimmed with hatred? Why was I disappointed in her, in myself? Why did I feel like I was being betrayed, or as though I was the one betraying her? And better yet, why did Isabella arrive here covered in filth? How did she possibly have the nerve to talk to me, much less look me in the eye or joke with me, when nearly every other commoner could barely come into a ten-foot radius of me without being intimidated? Did Bella realize what she was doing to me? Was it all part of her plan? Was she even really a spy at all?

All the questions made my brain throb. I sank onto my bed, burying my face in my hands.

"_I want you out by the evening, or I shall have you beheaded," _I had told her. But now that I thought about it, could I really behead her? Bella was different, I knew now. If I was being honest with myself, I actually wanted Isabella to stay. She was so open with her personality, yet so mysterious to me at the same time. I hated her, yes, but she was… _intriguing._ I did not understand.

Bella was a hurricane; there was no doubt of the assumption now. She destroyed my confidence, my emotions, my future, my family life – everything in her path until she got what she wanted.

"_Never go back on your word, Edward," _Father had told me. I was twelve years old. _"No matter what you say, you've got to do it. I suppose you could put it off for as long as you like, but it has got to happen sometime. If not, you should know you would not make a good King, and you should therefore resign your title and allow a different person the throne."_ I remembered staring straight into my father's eyes as he gripped the tops of my shoulders. _"As a Masen man, if you go back on your word, Edward, you would rather kill yourself."_

And that was that. It was a lesson that had stayed with me since that time, an example of information that struck me with adrenaline and fear.

There had never been a time when I had gone back on my father's advice. Never, in my wildest dreams, had I ever believed there would be a time when I would ever need to remember this advice like I was now. I had never expected a time to come when I would ever want to go back on my word.

Bella did not deserve to stay at this castle. She did not deserve to be washed or to wear my mother's clothes. She did not deserve my second thoughts, and she did not deserve my mercy. But I was giving it to her.

I had to keep her here. I had to find out the real reason behind her words, and I had to find out her past. I decided that as I grew to know her more, she would open up more to me. She had already told me so much – I was positive that worming the truth out of her would not take a very long time. That way, I would not – and could not, for that matter – go back on my word.

I would not give the hurricane what she wants.

I stood from my bed, went to unlock the door of my room, and strode into the corridor. Almost all my traces of anger were gone. I was feeling eager, knowing that I would soon be receiving answers to my questions.

On my way up to the guest room Bella was staying in, I ran into Eric, my servant.

"Ah, Eric," I said coolly. "Would you mind telling Mrs. Duncan in the kitchens to prepare a very intricate supper for tonight? We have a… guest that will be staying with us for a while, and I want her to feel… comfortable." I twisted the side of my face up into a smile.

Eric beamed in reply. "Yes sir, Prince Edward!" he said happily. He bounded off down the stairwell to the corridor below, cheerful as ever. I did not react to this, as I was far too accustomed to Eric's standoffish antics by this point.

"_But they all think I'm a common girl…"_ Isabella was, I was certain, anything but a common girl. She was far more remarkable than that. How could one tiny person make me feel such strong emotions, how could someone so small pull apart my nerves until they are stretched out so far they were about to snap? It was unattainable how Bella could bend the rules so effortlessly, and how her confidence seemed to affect me like it was affecting me now.

I had reached the guest room Bella was staying in. I knocked. There was a cough, a _bang!_ and a curse in a language I did not know, and the door opened. Bella stood there, gazing at me through long eyelashes, the door cracked just so that I could see a sliver of her body and nothing more.

She raised her eyebrows. "Hello, _Prince Edward_," she said, her voice mocking.

I smirked. "Good day, Isabella," I said. "May I come in?"

"Err, no!" Bella said, quickly enough to raise my suspicions. "No, you can't, because, uh, I am… changing clothes!" She laughed nervously and the door creaked so that the crack in the door grew smaller.

"Oh, are you?" My smirk slid off my face. "I suppose I will come back later."

"Oh, alright that sounds lovely," Bella said hastily, shutting the door. I swiftly stuck out my foot between the door and the frame so it would not close. Bella repeatedly rammed it against my foot, but the door merely bounced back. Bella glared at me. I looked back at her calmly. It seemed like so long ago I had told her I loathed her. I could not loathe someone like her; she was too effortless to be around, too much fun to disregard.

But that was until I heard the small sneeze from within the room. It could not have been Bella, because I was looking right at her and her brown-eyed stare would have been torn from mine. Being greatly stronger than Bella, I forced the door open. Bella retreated to press her back against the wall.

Sitting serenely on the large bed in the center of the room was the last person I had expected to see inside Bella's room.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: I'm so evil. I don't update in forever and then I leave a cliffhanger. Muhahahahahahahahahahaa ect.**

**Fact 1) Band camp sucks. **

**Fact 2) the story will hopefully pick up from here.**

**Fact 3) School starts in five days and I'm having a party tomorrow.**

**Fact 4) I spent $300 at American Eagle today. Thumbs up for school shopping.**

**Fact 5) I finally finished My Notebook Will Explain. Whoooo.**

**Quote: "The band thinks we look buff when we use flags." HAHAHAHA. That's got to be the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.**

**Song: When I Get Home, You're So Dead - Mayday Parade; Running From Lions - All Time Low**

**-**

**B/N: Cliffy's suck! ): Oh, I start school in 11 days...I'm counting! I'm going to take a guess and say Alice is in the room! Or maybe Jacob?**

**Hmm. Ah well. My grandma's taking me shopping Monday or Tuesday! Hooray for school shopping!**

**Oh, and school starts on a Wednesday for me. Just lovely, isn't it?**

**Oh...what else...It's 11:46PM and I'm going to bed. Aren't I a lovely beta?**

**xxx**

**A/N: Ahhh Leah you rock the world. and crack me up. ahahahah.**

**REVIEW. or die.**

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	9. Chapter Nine

**Lavviexx, you're the only one who guessed right.**

**WhatHaveIBeenSmoking: "OBAMA'S HOT!" ahahaa**

**Paramore = love**

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**BPOV**

**-**

"Rosalie?" Edward gasped, his mouth gaping open.

Rosalie smiled at him, waving, blasé about Edward's stunned response – much unlike myself. I was terrified. Edward had just told me if I did not pack up my things and get the hell out of here I was going to be beheaded, and then Rosalie comes along and sits on the bed and _waves._

Edward rearranged his face and stared at Rosalie with a slight smile on his face, his eyes alight, like he was absolutely overjoyed that Rosalie chose today to visit. He was probably glad he had a legit excuse not to talk to me. I snorted to myself.

"What are you doing here? And how did you end up in this room, with…?" Edward trailed off. I felt slightly put off by the fact that he did not say my name, but I swiftly pushed the thought away. Edward hated me, and I knew I would not be staying at this castle much longer if _Prince Eddiekins _got his way.

And of course he would get his way.

Rosalie grinned and immediately launched into her explanation. "Well, I received a letter from the King, saying that he would like me to visit you some time in the next few weeks, and of course I was delighted to come. So when I came to town this morning to buy some bread, I assumed that today would be a lovely day to stop by for a visit."

Rosalie paused to twist her blonde hair daintily around her finger. I still had my back pressed against the wall, and I subtly tried edging away from Edward and the door while she was talking. Edward would not have noticed anything, even if I had suddenly ripped off my dress and ran naked down the corridor. I had already heard Rosalie's account of how she wound up here, in the castle. When she told me, she started at Prince Edward's ball in honour of his eighteenth birthday, and continued on from there. When she said that, it striked me that Edward was my age. He seemed so much older, so proper and uptight all of the time. At any rate, Rosalie was beautiful – blonde hair, bright eyes, red lips, prominent cheekbones, attractive dresses, and all the characteristics that a young prince would be looking for. Prince Benjamin of Ireland recently married a woman out of the same mold.

In reality, Rosalie had been in my room for quite a while, just talking to me. Rosalie was kind, I supposed, but she was _different,_ I noted in the time she was here. I did not necessarily have a problem with this trait of hers, because I was different, too, and I knew it, and I was proud of it. It was what I was infamous for, back in France. I was quite accomplished at making friends, as I was commonly an amiable person, I felt out of my element as I spoke to Rosalie. Although that could possibly be explained by how my mind was overflowing with Edward.

Was he really going to kick me out of his castle? How could he possibly think I was a spy? I contemplated this as Rosalie continued.

"So when I arrived, I was let in by the doorman. I asked him if you were available, and he told me he did not know if you were present in the castle at that time or not. I was told to wait in the parlor for you or the Queen to arrive, but then Isabella here wandered in." Rosalie stopped to laugh and look at me. I was broken from my ponderings when I heard my name, and smiled at Rosalie politely. She continued animatedly.

"She asked me if I had seen where you had gotten to, and I told her I did not know, as I had just arrived moments before. We talked for a few short moments in the parlor before Bella and I began to make our way up the staircase. We drifted towards this room, and then we just chattered up here until you came barging in, Edward." Edward chuckled once, running a hand through his hair. Was it just me, or was that an uncommon characteristic for a prince like Edward?

Judging my distance from the door, I figured I was safely out of reach of Edward's arms, if he happened to abruptly reach out and attempt to strangle me. By this point, I was not doubting Edward on any counts, though I knew that he would not try anything sketchy like that in front of Rosalie.

I knew Rosalie could stretch out that story for hours, and continue on if she wanted, but she cut it short, for which I was grateful. Edward just kept on staring at her, no longer smiling. His mouth was set into a hard line.

I wondered what he was thinking of. Was he second-guessing his assumptions of me? I did not want to get my hopes up. He was most likely picturing himself next to Rosalie with a crown on his head, standing on top of the Earth. He would be King, she his Queen, and they would rule over the Sun and the other planets as they revolved around the Earth.

That was more realistic, in my mind.

A black-haired, oily-faced servant popped his head in the room, squeezing between Edward and the doorframe. He was grinning as though he had just won a lottery.

"Prince Edward, dinner is ready in the dining hall now! Just like you ordered, sir!"

Edward looked away from Rosalie to nod curtly at the servant. "Thank you, Eric. We shall be down in a moment."

"Alright, Ed!" the servant twittered excitedly. Edward scowled, and the servant ambled back down the corridor. I pressed my lips together as not to laugh at Edward's expression. It was clear this was every day behavior for that particular servant.

Edward kept on thinking. Rosalie and I stared awkwardly at him, at each other, and at the floor, not knowing what to do. It was quite possible Edward's brain exploded with the efforts of his thinking. I repeated that to myself, and I started laughing quietly.

Rosalie looked at me and cocked her head to the side. She reminded me of a lost puppy. That only made me laugh more, a little bit louder. Edward continued to appear deep in thought, disregarding me.

I thought back to how I ended up where I was now. I ran away from Prince Jacob, if anyone in their right mind could call that dog a prince, I received a boat ride from an eccentric and somewhat creepy old man named Corin, I ran into Edward's "oh-so-perfect" white horse, I tangled myself in a canopy, and now I was laughing my head off, my knees weak.

"Isabella," Edward said icily. "Could you _please_ control your insanity for a later time?"

I stopped laughing abruptly and looked at him. He was no longer thinking; he was staring at me blankly, his expression looking as though he thought I was something poisonous.

I raised my eyebrows, challenging him. "Maybe."

He scowled. I smiled, knowing I had gotten to him. I did not want to leave the English castle. I was having so much fun already, and I had barely been here for a day.

"Rosalie, would you mind joining Isabella and I for supper tonight?" Edward asked, charm oozing out of his voice. It amazed me how his personality could shift so suddenly when he wanted it to.

"Oh, I am not sure I can…" Rosalie said in a small voice. "I apologise, Edward, really, I do. It would be wonderful to dine with you and Bella, but it is getting late, and Mother must be wondering where I am."

Edward's face sank faintly. "All right. Please return soon, Rosalie."

Rosalie laughed. "I will be sure to stop by when I can, Edward." She got up off the bed, smiling that perfect smile. She waltzed up to me, the grace of her step unnerving to me. "It was honestly and immense pleasure meeting you, Bella."

She gave me a hug, which I returned uncomfortably. "Did you know you remind me a lot of what I've heard of Princess Isabella of France?" Rosalie chirped, smiling.

I knew she meant this as a compliment – it was impossible that Rosalie Hale could possibly guess who I was. It was just coincidence to her that we had the same name. She did not notice anything about me that was out of the ordinary, so I was not too worried about her; it was Edward I was concerned for. My eyes flickered to his face. He was watching me interestedly, his eyes narrowed as though he was attempting to solve a difficult problem in his head.

"I've been told," I murmured. I then laughed nervously, trying to blow it off without picking up more suspicion than I already had.

Rosalie probably did not know what Princess Isabella of France looked like. The pictures of me in the paper were not very good quality, and heaven knows all the paintings of me make me look large and ugly. Just like the pictures of Prince Edward Masen of England did not give the real man any justice whatsoever. At that moment, I made a mental note to give Alice and Sam an extremely detailed description of Edward. Leaving out how awful his personality was, of course.

Rose beamed, and Edward took her hand and kissed it respectfully. I did not see anything else in the gesture, just polite manners. He did not stare at her, and he no longer looked sad to see Rosalie leave. He merely looked very thoughtful, and I hoped he was not thinking about me and Princess Isabella.

Once Rosalie had left, Edward invited me quietly to dinner. He led me to the dining hall, a large crimson room which was dominated by a colossal mahogany table, like by another sparkling chandelier. There was no one in the room. Just Edward and I. In the back of my mind, I worried where Elizabeth was, but I was too anxious about what Edward was going to say to notice.

There was already food on my plate, roast, baked prunes, beans, rice, wheat bread, and a bowl to the side was filled with warm stew. I had not expected to be fed like this, and I knew that Edward did not think I should be.

I was dreading when Edward would speak. What would he say first? When would I be kicked out of here? What did he make of the Princess of France incident? Did he still think I was a spy? What was the issue with him and his damn mood swings?

But Edward did not say anything, and so we ate in silence for a very long time. The quiet was so loud to me – it pressed against my ears, making my head light, swirling around so many memories. I did not want to remember everything. I did not want to reflect back to memories of Belgium, of the Blacks. I did not want to be reminded of how much I missed Alice, Sam, and Leah. I did not want to think about Charlie and Renee, and Emmett, who I never said goodbye to. I had never had very much time to talk with Emmett; he was so busy all the time. I felt guilty about rolling my eyes and grimacing at Mother. I did not want to think back to how hard the tears leaked from my eyes after Jacob hit me.

I did not like the silence, but I did not want to start the conversation, I wanted to leave it to Edward.

So there was more silence.

"Bella, I –" Edward began, but he stopped. "Bella, I do want you to leave this castle. You do not belong here, and you have disrupted the pattern of things here." I stopped eating, setting down my silverware, and looked down at my plate. "Even though I do not know what to think of you and I do not know who or what you are, I want you to stay at this castle for a while longer."

My eyes flashed up to his face. "What?" I gasped. Could I be hearing this right?

"I want you –" Edward was unable to finish his sentence.

"Ugh!" Elizabeth stormed in at that moment, a stack of parchment in her left hand.

Edward composed his face. "What is it, Mother?"

"The paper just came in," Elizabeth grumbled. I might have laughed if I was not so bewildered about Edward. He wanted me to _stay_? He was so perplexing. Why could he not just chose a personality and stick with it?

"The monthly paper?" Edward probed his mother curiously.

Of course. I received the monthly paper in France. It was a collection of stories from all over Western Europe.

"Yes, that's right," Elizabeth said. "And the castle votes are in this one, you know, the one where commoners mail in votes on which castle looks the most appealing. And can you guess which castle was voted number one above us _again?_"

The corners of Edward's mouth tugged up, as though he too was amused by his mother's antics. "France?"

"France!" Elizabeth shrieked. "That bloody white castle of theirs is stunning, and they know it!"

I could not help myself – a laugh escaped through my lips.

"Yes, yes, _funny_, is it not, Bella?" Elizabeth snapped. I rearranged my face into an innocent expression, smiling angelically like I used to when I wanted something back home in France.

My castle, designed by Queen Leigh II, was beautiful. The architecture in the structure blew me away, and I had lived there all my life. The gardens around the castle were known throughout the world.

Just like me. Miss Isabella Swan, the beautiful, fun-loving princess of France. Daughter of King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee, sister to the next heir, Emmett Swan… set to be wed with Prince Jacob Black of Belgium, believed to be one of the most admired princesses of all history… I'd heard all of it before. So what were they saying now?

I looked at Edward. He was watching me, scrutinizing my face. I was immediately afraid of what he saw there. His eyes were narrowed in concentration again. Did he assume I was someone other than a commoner? Was I still a spy in his eyes? Or was I something different? I did not know, and I knew I would probably never know.

At least I was allowed to stay here for a few nights. I was not ready to be back on the streets, wondering how I was going to get home and what would happen when I did.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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_I was your chance to get out of this town, but I ditched the car and let you down._

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**A/N: Howdy, howdy, good day, good day, ca va? ca va, ect. Ca va is How's it going? in French. Because I started school Thursday and I'm taking French. Yay. **

**Ooooh I GOT A FRENCH NAME it's Claireese. My name is Claire, and my friends call me Claireese/Clairebear/You/Psycho/Stooooopid. You know. the usual.**

**STOOPID**

**Songs: Back Breaker - Hit The Lights, Stay Young -We The Kings, Hallejuah - Paramore, My Heart - Paramore**

**Quotes: (Emma's at a soccer tounament in like Illinois)  
Sub calling roll: Emma...Emma Johnson?...  
Hayden: She's at the special olympics  
Sub: oh...**

**B/N: HEY! STOOPID! Just kidding! :) I loved the chapter, and I can't WAIT to BETA what you have next!**

***snickers childishly* I found one sentence very...amusing.**

**"The monthly paper?" Edward probed his mother curiously. - ahahahahahaha...probed...**

**I should be the one called STOOPID cuz that's what I am at the moment! I start school Wednesday and I'll be taking Spanish! So, I can be able to write full sentences IN SPANISH and you won't understand! Mwahahaha...*goes into a coughing fit***

**Anyways. Loved the chapter! As always, you write better than I do! :)**

**xx**

**A/N: Leah, go die. Or something.**

**Just kidding. Don't die. That's bad. Who would Beta my stories?**

**Good question. Not me. You're taking Spanish. Good for you. I'm taking French. We'll have a battle. BRING IT ON LE-UH!**

**Ugh. Tonight was the first time we performed on the football field as a dance team with the band. it freaking SUCKED.**

**You know, sometimes I think the Notes on the bottom are longer than the chapter. **

**Oh well. You lllliiiiikkkkkeeee them. Because me and Leah are so funny.**

**REVIEW AND TELL ME HOW FUNNY I AM NOWW!  
**

**gah people come on honestly. you take so long to freaking review.**

**P.S.-next chapter Edward almost figures out who Bella is. Also, later in the story, I plan for Eddie to take Bella to a pub and they get drunk and - hmmm. you'll see what happens.**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Sorry if it sucks.**

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**_PRINCESS OF FRANCE – MISSING!_**

_Princess of France Isabella Swan has been reported as missing. Insiders say that she disappeared on the day of her wedding to Belgium's Prince Jacob Black, and it is rumored she did not make it down the aisle before she took off._

_"She was all dressed up and ready to go, see," said one of the Black's servants. "And she got to the gate, slipped off her shoes and darted into the woods. And that was that. Caused quite an uproar."_

_"She was the demon child!" said another. "Everyone told me she was an angel! She came and set my plants alight!"_

_Leah Clearwater is a servant at the Belgium palace that was reported to be very close to the princess. She was in such a state of shock that she would not come out of her quarters and was therefore unavailable for comment. However, Princess Isabella had made it clear to Leah as well as all the other servants that she disliked the Black family. Moving the bed she slept in to the side, officials have found the initials "BS" carved into the stone._

_So where is the princess now? Is she still wandering in the woods, or has she found shelter? Or perhaps she has not made it through? No one is partial to these questions._

_King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee are unavailable for comment as well. The king is currently in Ireland for a conference and the queen will not leave the French palace (see page 2 for castle voting). Nevertheless, Prince Emmett Swan, the princess's brother, has returned from his hunting excursion in Canterbury._

_"I was not aware that she had run away at all, until Mother told me so," Prince Emmett said. "I offered to go and find her myself, but I was forbidden. It is for the best, I assume."_

_"[Isa]bella is an autonomous romantic. She has probably found a man in a cottage someplace and stayed there. She was never one for the rules." Prince Emmett chuckled. "However, I refuse to believe she is dead. She is far too intelligent and imaginative, and much too strong to be defeated at her young age."_

_Princess Isabella has been considered by the people as one of the most beautiful princesses in quite a long time. Surely, people know what she looks like, but if not – she is lean, with brown hair and brown eyes. She is very imaginative and sociable. So if you have seen her, or have talked to her, or have had contact with her in any way, Queen Renee would be very gracious to receive this information._

_The Black family, on the other hand, is furious with the French, and the two countries are no longer allies. Prince Jacob appears to be moving on to more nobility, as he was seen with Princess Lauren of Hungary._

_"I hope dearly they find Princess Isabella," merchant Alexander Dale said. "She is such an excellent role model for my three young daughters."_

_Speaking as the conclusion, Prince Emmett said, "She will come back when she wants to. If I know [the princess], she will stay anywhere for a while as long as there is exceptional food, lots of room, and no rules against being barefoot."_

-

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**Have fun with this. Newspaper clipping that, yes, Edward will eventually read. I'll update soon.**

**OH P.S.!!!!!!!!!!!!! - if you go to my profile, click on the link that says "Photos" then go to the one titled "FanFiction". The English and French castles are there, as well as Bella's dresses(:**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**SORRY SORRY SORRY for the short length. I'm sure you'll get over it, because next chapter is the drunk scence and hopefully that'll be longer.**

A little foreshadowing:** EDWARD** is, yes indeed, in love with **ROSALIE** but admits that **BELLA** is beautiful. **ELIZABETH** is a spaz that has a personality similar to **BELLA**'s. **EDWARD** still thinks **BELLA** is a spy, but he does not know her motive or if she has one at all. **CHARLIE** and **EDWARD SR.** are in Ireland and **EMMETT** was in Canterbury. **ROSALIE**'s charater is quite sketchy, and it will only get worse :D MUHAHAHAHA.

**Once again, HUGEHUGEHUGE thanks to Leah!!!**

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EPOV

**-**

I could not seem to get Rosalie Hale out of my head. Every time I looked at Bella, I would see Rosalie's face. Brown eyes would turn blue, dark hair would turn fair, and a small body would grow taller. I stared at Bella throughout the remainder of supper, drinking in Rosalie's features.

Elizabeth was still groaning about the castle votings, but I could care less. A castle was a castle, and that was all that mattered in that area. The thing that made the difference was the government, and the army, and the nobility. They were the ones that should be ranked the highest, and recognized widely, not the castle in which they reside.

I watched Bella eat, imagining it was Rosalie. Bella had excellent manners, I noted, quite extra-ordinary for a spy, or a commoner, or whichever she was.

In the back of my mind, I knew should not be thinking about Rosalie's beauty and more about her abrupt visit to the castle today. I knew I should be thinking about the consequences of letting Bella stay at the castle. But I could not.

As for Bella's allowance to remain here all I could explain to myself was that I was curious. Trying to figure out Bella's agenda was like trying to draw the dark side of the moon – impossible. I supposed that two extra nights would do no harm to my words earlier, there was no need to worry myself about breaking the tradition of the Masen line.

As I watched Bella, her gaze lifted up to meet mine. Her expression was completely blank, showing no emotion at all. I knew she had some kind of emotion. Behind her dark eyes I would pay anyone to suppose that she was brewing up some way to aggravate me further. She was clearly very skilled at that particular task, I had known from the start.

Why, oh, why, was I letting her stay? She will probably only cause me more grief.

"Edward? Edward you should really learn to listen to me when I am talking to you!"

I snapped my eyes up to meet Elizabeth's. My mouth shaped itself into a hard line – an instinctive action I picked up from Father. "My apologies, Mother," I said coolly.

"That is quite all right but be sure to keep up next time." Elizabeth got up, patted my cheek, and walked away. A servant came to pick up her plate of food.

"What did I miss?" I asked Bella, bewildered. Bella was smiling at me with her eyebrows raised. It was irritating.

"Your mother just went on a rant about castles and all the other 'pointless articles' in the paper. You didn't miss much, but it may have been polite to pretend to listen instead of staring at me."

I refused to be put out by her.

To cover my embarrassment, I harrumphed and grabbed the paper off the table where Elizabeth had left it.

"Pointless articles," I sniffed. "I would say that there are much more important articles in this paper by far. There generally is, but Elizabeth never bothers to read those. Such as there is a hunting expedition in Canterbury. I would have gone, of course, if I did not have to stay here to be certain that Elizabeth does not burn the castle down."

I opened the paper to a random page in the center, a few pages after the castle voting which was on the second page in the periodical.

"I agree," said Bella. "There are so much more captivating stories the reporters could find out, like the meeting in Ireland, or, I don't know, the prince of Belgium…"

I was slightly shocked that Bella would know about the meeting in Ireland. Father was there right now, and that was why he was not here to say "no" when I needed him to. But to be polite, I nodded in Bella's direction and read an article about trade in Milan.

As I read, a servant came up and carried my plate away, as another to Bella. She sat with me in silence, her elbow propped up on the table and her cheek resting on her palm. She stared idly at the wall, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger.

"You know," I said after a while, "it is more well-mannered to have _all_ of your hair up. If it falls out of the traditional bun, you should pin it back up."

"What if I do not wish to be traditional?" Bella countered, narrowing her eyes at me. "What if I live for breaking rules?"

"Breaking rules is disrespectful."

"I don't want to be like every other woman."

"Then what kind of woman are you?"

"I want to be the kind of woman who can look at her reflection and see someone who was worthwhile looking back."

I blinked. Bella looked away, her cheeks tinged pink; I returned to my paper. Tired of the small tedious stories, I flipped the paper to the front page.

_Princess of France – Missing! _the headline blared.

"Bella, have you heard this?" I asked abruptly, holding the paper closer to my face to read the print more clearly.

"Heard what?" Bella said. Her voice sounded distant, as though I had pulled her from a very profound thought.

"The princess of France is missing."

"She _what?_" Bella shrieked.

"Yes it says –" I began. Before I was aware of what was happening the paper was ripped from my grip and Bella was on the far side of the dining hall, the paper in her hand.

"Isabella," I said in calm outrage. "Give me the paper."

"No," she said. I was taken aback – no one besides Elizabeth and Father had ever said "no" to me before. My anger disappeared abruptly. I clutched at it, willing it to return. I longed for a reason to be enraged with Bella, a motive to have some sense to force her out of the castle, to explain what she was doing to me and why.

"What did you just say to me?" I said. I hoped my voice sounded more threatening to her than it did to me.

"Well, see, umm…" Bella stuttered, blushing. She seemed unaffected by my tone or by my face, which I had arranged to look angry. I stood from my chair and placed both my hands on the table, leaning on it for support.

"Spit it out, girl!"

Bella was immediately defensive, as I knew she would be once I called her any commonplace noun. I did not know why she insisted on me using her name, as she was merely a common girl herself, but I did, to be polite. I was looking ahead to the future – being polite to Bella may pay off in the end. She may be a spy, but she was attractive and her clothing suggested great wealth. I was in this to be the best.

"I have a name," she jeered, placing her hands on her hips. The paper crumpled even more with the movement.

"Do I appear to be concerned?"

She sniffed. "Fine then. No paper for you." Bella took the paper in bother of her hands and ripped it down the center. Then she put the two halves together and ripped them into quarters, and into smaller pieces still, until it was a large pile of scraps in her hands.

"What was wrong with the article of the princess?"

"I just don't want you to read it, okay?"

"No," I said. "Not okay. Tell me right now." I said the last few words with a ringing voice of authority that _always _worked.

Bella raised her eyebrows. "No."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Isabella! It was just a story!"

"I am sorry if I offended you in any way by snatching the paper from you or ripping it, because I realize that I do not deserve to be here, wearing your clothes and eating your food. But it's just that –" she stopped. "I just get very defensive when it comes to the French royalty."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I mean, have you heard about that princess of theirs? She's such a great role model. And it is said she is incredibly beautiful as well as outgoing… and to hear she ran away? Sad day." She shook her head forlornly.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "The French princess has the same name as you, doesn't she?"

Bella hesitated for two heartbeats. "Yes. I am named after her. My mother and father thought the name was elegant."

"Of course," I said. "Very elegant." I took a step towards Bella, standing in the corner with a pile of scraps in her hand. "But Isabella, you are eighteen years of age, are you not?"

"Yes," Bella said quickly, not appearing to think about it.

"And the princess is eighteen too, am I correct?"

Bella's face gave nothing away. "I suppose she is, yes."

"So that would mean the news of the infant princess spread miraculously quickly."

"Well, my family lives very close to the French palace."

"_Yes!"_ I shouted in triumph. "You _are_ French!"

"_Merde_," Bella said quietly, covering her mouth with her empty hand.

"Tell me something, Bella," I said after a moment. "What is your last name?"

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: yay Drunk scene next! gotta pee got school tomorrow bye!**

**B/N: I can sing half the Spanish alphabet song! Hoorah, I am awesome! Instead of the letter names, you sing the letter sounds.**

**Ah, beh, ca, cha, deh, eh, eff, eh... okay maybe not half, but a good bit!**

**I will soon be ranting about how wonderful this fanfic is in Spanish! Mark my words!**

**Yeah... shutting up now :)  
**

**A/N: Songs - All things by Boyce Avenue. They rock the world.**

**Quote - ****[Mr.] Bartlett: You know who else was a frustrated artist???? HITLER! So watch out.**

**REVIEW. MY LIFE SUCKS. No really. I'm having guy troubles again :(**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**this has taken far too long for such a short chapter. and this is just a lead-in chapter to the drunk scene; i couldn't tell it it bella's point of view!! duh! **

**but im working on the next chapter RIGHT NOW so chill out!!!**

**happy halloween/thanksgiving/bastille day/birthday..... whatever.**

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1810 Chapter Twelve

**BPOV**

**-**

"My – my last name?" I stammered.

He couldn't know, could he? I would have to try harder to keep it from him. He was on my case, and I was frightened. I did not know what Edward would do if he found out. Kick me out, probably. Or possibly send a letter to France – or worse, to the Blacks.

I rubbed the side of my cheek where Jacob had punched me. The whole side of my face felt tender, and I felt as though he had shattered my jawbone and my cheekbone. I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain.

"Isabella, _please_," Edward said impatiently. "And you accuse me of being unfocused."

"You are," I replied, unthinkingly. "Do not deny that, Prince Edward, because you and I both know that all throughout supper you were thinking of your earlier encounter with Rosalie Hale." I didn't have to look at Edward's face to know that he was startled once again by my straightforwardness. I did not have time for trivial facials then; I was more attentive to my shaky predicament.

I wanted to go home, back to Paris. But I knew that if I did, Mother would make me marry Jacob Black, and she would not listen to any ridiculous story such as mine. I knew the papers said that they thought I was seeking attention; quite the opposite. I wanted all the attention to disappear. It was too overwhelming, all of it – hiding from Prince Edward and Queen Elizabeth, hiding from Prince Jacob and the Blacks, hiding from the press, from anyone who might recognize me.

Abruptly, my line of thought was swerved to a moment in the parlor, an old history lesson from when I was thirteen.

"Isabella," my instructor told me patiently. "King Louis XVI reigned in France from 1774 to 1791. He was the first French king – or any king, for that matter – to be executed by the guillotine. He was found guilty of treason, when he and his family tried to sneak out of the country into Austria. This showed a sign a vast weakness in France. If your father, you, or any other member of your family tries to flee from your duties, dishonor on your whole family."

Dishonor.

How could I ever live up to that? I didn't run away from my duties, did I?

"How could you charge me of so?" Edward huffed. He was referring to my comment of supper. I was snapped out of my flashback instantly; I had assumed I had been in thought for several minutes, though it was merely a half-second.

When I looked at Edward, I was reminded of a small child who did not get what they wanted. But he was sidetracked, and that was all that mattered to me. No more piecing together for Edward.

"My apologies, Prince Edward," I said.

It was quiet for a moment. I stared at Edward while he stared at the floorboards.

He really was as beautiful as everyone gloated about. His dark eyelashes hid his emerald eyes, and his smooth white skin stretched gracefully over his cheekbones. When in public, I knew he combed his hair back, but as of now his auburn hair was attractively untidy.

"Bella," he said after a moment. "What would you say for a little… dress-up party?"

I blinked. "A dress-up party? Has my arrival made you completely lose your mind?"

Edward chuckled, flashing straight, white teeth. "Quite the opposite," he said, "I have actually just begun to find it."

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**A/N: leah, I'll send this to you later!!  
I have a funny story.... but this isn't the time to tell it!! so for grammar errors ill fix em later!!**

**its cold!! Songs: Pretty Girl - Sugarcult; Cold As Ice - Foreigner; my school's marching band music... haha. im obsessed with the band... :)**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_I will find a way to you if it kills me._

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**1810 Chapter 13**

**EPOV**

**-**

I only told Bella we were going out for a dress-up party to make her come. She appeared to have a very child-like mind – this was going to be very simple. Bella kept dancing around the subject, and I planned to get it out of her as soon as possible.

She wasn't a spy. I was nearly positive of that – but what I was thinking now was even more outrageous than that, or any other occupation I could have procured. Princess of France? She couldn't be.

"So, what am I dressing up as?" asked Bella.

"Someone who is…" I hesitated. "Someone who isn't you. So put on peasant clothing – we are going out."

Bella bounded up the stairs to the guest room. It bothered me somewhat to realize how at home she seemed to be already.

This was not normal behavior for me. Mere hours ago I hated this girl. I wanted her to get away from me and my horse. I wanted her out of my way. Now I knew she was more than a commoner, more than a beggar, more than a spy… a princess? No. All I could trust myself to say was true was that there was something strange about Isabella and I was determined to find out what it was.

A few minutes later, I was dressed in peasant clothes waiting outside the guest room door for Bella. I knew we would have to sneak out; guards could not follow us where I wanted to go. It would look suspicious and it would probably cause Bella to lie, or else not say what I wanted to hear. I always heard what I wanted to hear.

"_Never go back on your word, Edward."_ I shuddered slightly.

I did not understand how commoners could stand it – I felt as if I was wearing a scratchy rag. When I next took it off, I was expecting my skin to be highly irritated. My shoes felt threadbare – different from the hard boots that I commonly wore. I did not know where we obtained this clothing, but I found them stowed in the back of my closet and assumed Elizabeth had placed them there.

"_I want you out by the evening, or I shall have you beheaded."_ It was evening now – past evening, almost a quarter till eleven – and I was only extending her stay longer. But I could not kill her now, could I? My rising abeyance of her was too strong. What was she doing to me?

As I thought this, I heard the door open and she stepped out. She looked much like she did earlier that day – her hair was thrown up into a messy mass atop her head, her clothes worn. When she walked past me, she was tugging at the waist of her dress.

"Itchy?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

"Just a little." Bella tugged harder, and stopped, knowing it was hopeless effort. "How do com – I mean, how do poorer people stand this?"

I studied her face. She made another slip-up. She was already one step closer to where I wanted her to be. "I was wondering the same thing. Shall we leave now?"

Bella nodded and I silently lead her away. We did not speak as we made our way to the back door, nor did we meet any servants. Elizabeth was in her room bathing, I knew, as she did every night after supper. Elizabeth did not seem bothered by the fact there was an eccentric woman in the castle. How she kept herself so content and undisturbed at all times was beyond me.

We made it to the back door. It was small and wooden, with a small slit in it for a window. I slowly twisted the knob and eased the door open; it did not make a sound. I stepped down the concrete stairs and onto the dirt path that lead into the woods. The path lead to the stables, then out to the street. This way the main hill was avoided and so was the most populated market of the town. No one could recognize her.

I turned around, waiting for Bella to catch up. She silently shut the door and hurried down to me. She was nearly two feet from where I was standing when her foot caught a small stone in the pathway and she fell forward. I held out my arms as she fell and caught her before she could hit the ground. As I did so, my hand brushed her left breast; I could feel her blushing. I kept my composure and acted as if nothing had happened.

Bella straightened and dusted herself off. "Thank you very much, Edward," she said, without looking at me. She continued to dust herself off.

I studied her once again in confusion before I shortly replied, "You are welcome." She then looked up at me, and our eyes met briefly. In that fleeting second, I felt all my stress disappear. It was just me, Edward Anthony Masen, and Isabella. Nothing more, and nothing less, just her deep brown eyes.

But then the moment was over. "So, shall we carry on?" I said, and I began to lead the way.

The path was dark – the only source of light was the crescent moon shining above us. Bella would occasionally stumble, but she did not fall again.

Once we arrived on the cobblestone street, we found it deserted. I turned asked Bella if she was alright.

"Yes, I'm quite alright," she answered. "I'm just curious – where are we going?"

I did not answer. I lead her a little bit farther down until we were met with small shops and abandoned street-side markets. We turned one more corner, and I guided her into a pub.

The pub was crowded, as I knew it would be, and loud. It was mainly filled with men, most unshaven and smelling of beer, and when we stepped in all of their eyes seemed to skip over me and straight to Bella. I was grateful. It meant that none of them recognized me as their next ruler, but it could mean one of them might recognize Bella.

I grabbed Bella's hand so she would not get lost and directed her to the bar. We sat down on stools and waited for the barman to come.

"Was this where you were planning on taking me all along?' Bella asked loudly, for it was quite hard to hear over the roaring chatter and clinking of drinks.

I nodded.

"What business does someone like you have at a place like this?" she inquired. Before I could answer, the barman walked up and leaned on the counter so his face was a mere foot away from Bella's.

"So what would you like tonight, sweetheart?" he asked in a husky voice. Suddenly there was something stuck in my throat, and my only desire was to punch that man so hard all of his teeth fall out. I shook my head to clear it, deciding that after a day like today some alcohol would be good for me.

"We'll have two beers," I said to the man, answering for Bella. She nodded in agreement, and the barman walked off to get us our drinks.

I began to get nervous. What if Bella won't tell me what I need to know, and what if she figures out what I am trying to do? She is not obtuse. I just had to know who she was, where she came from… what she was doing to me.

My plan was to get her as drunk as possible – as daft as it sounds, it should work. Once under the influence, I could ask her all my questions and she would answer with honesty, unthinkingly… she would not remember in the morning.

The morning.

I could not go back on my vow. But I had to… somehow. I would find a loophole.

The barman returned with our drinks and Bella quickly began gulping hers down. I assumed she, too, was perplexed by the goings-on of today. I sipped mine slowly, biding my time. As I did so, I thought of Rosalie. I sighed. She was so handsome, and if only I knew her better I would ask for her hand in marriage. I should invite her over tomorrow – once Bella was out, of course. She _will_ be out of the palace by tomorrow; I would make sure of it.

Bella and I made small talk as she made dents in her drinks – going on five, six, seven.

By the time Bella was on her ninth cup, I was sure she was completely senseless. My strategy had finally come in to play – but I did not know what to ask first.

I decided to start with something simple. "Bella," I said slowly, "what is your full name?" I held my breath as I waited for her answer.

She gulped down the last of the drink before she slammed it down on the counter. "Isabella," she said drunkenly. Her eyes could barely focus on me.

I rolled my eyes. Even when she was inebriated she was still difficult. "Yes, but what is your last name?"

"M' name is Isabella Marie Swan. Ge'it wrong an' yeh'll be sor'y." She hiccupped and waved to the barman for another cup of beer.

My heart leaped. "Why will I be sorry?" I probed.

"M' daddy's the king o' France. He'll beat yer sorry ass right there," she snapped her finger to prove her point, "on th' dot." Another cup of overflowing beer was smacked on the table in front of her.

"Do you remember how you ended up in England?"

Bella grabbed the cup and began to drain it. "Sure," she said. She screwed up her face to remember. "Yeh see –" she hiccupped again "– I was gettin' married to a man by the name o' Jacob Black. He was a sorry ass, too, tryin' to use me an' beat me. His sisters wer' vile creatures, always lookin' at me and callin' me names. I knew they were jus' jealous 'cause I was pre'ier than they was." She stopped to polish off her drink.

"Yes? And then?" My heart was bouncing around in my chest. This was it, the real story, and everything fit together. This really was the princess of France, the girl I had heard so much about – I even had a crush on her when I was fifteen, though I had told no one. This was the woman whom little girls admired, and ran around their house in tiaras pretending to be. And I was sitting in a pub talking to her, watching her get sick on her eleventh cup of booze.

"Th' day I go' married I ran away. I ran in th' forest for aroun'… four days, still in my weddin' dress. I was abou' to be eaten by some animal but a man shot 'em for me. His name was somethin' like Corin an' he was a fisherman. Asked 'im to take me 'cross the English Channel an' 'e did. I walked around fo' a bit until I saw yer castle an' I felt comforted. I hit yer horse an' – well, you know th' rest." She drank her beer again, but she was slowing down.

"English Channel?" I said. "But it is nearly impossible to go across it. The waters are far too dangerous – Napoleon himself couldn't even do it."

Bella shrugged, her eyes droopy. I knew everything now, and it all made sense… the missing princess ads, the various French words, the abnormal qualities and the muddy white dress. To think – Bella came here for her own freedom. She knew that Jacob Black was not good for her and she took it into her own hands. I had heard that Princess Isabella was independent, but never in my wildest dreams would I assume she would go this far.

I suddenly felt a whole lot more respect for the intoxicated woman in front of me. She was by far the strongest woman I had ever met. Even through all my threats and harsh words, she still pulled through. She set her priorities, knowing that she had to keep herself safe, at least for a while. And I abruptly felt a rush of appreciation for Bella, and I longed to take back everything I had said, though I knew I couldn't. Unexpectedly, all I wanted to do was help Bella as much as I could. Now that I knew everything, Bella could probably tell me more about it on a later date, when she could remember more clearly.

"Bella?" I said. "It's getting late, would you like to return to the castle?"

She nodded her consent and I helped her off her stool and through the throng of people. The cool night air felt good on my skin opposed to the stuffy pub – I could see Bella thought so, too.

It did not take me long to learn that Bella could barely stand on her own, much less walk. She would drag her feet and fall, pulling me down with her. Sighing, I scooped her into my arms bridal style and carried her down the street. Bella's eyes finally drooped to a close and she buried her head in my chest, sighing.

"Edward?" she said softly.

"Mhmm?"

"Are we there yet?"

I chuckled. "No, not quite." I had just turned onto the dirt path that wound through the woods. Bella grew silent.

"Edward?" she said again.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Thank you." And that was all she said for the remainder of the journey. When I looked down at her, her fingers were entangled in my striped button-down shirt, her head resting where my heart was. She was asleep.

When I got to the back door, I had no troubles opening it easily and soundlessly. I quietly carried Bella up to the guest room and lay her down in her bed, pulling the covers over her. As I left the bedroom, I looked back at Bella's sleeping form. She was beautiful, even when she was in slumber under the influence.

I had to stop and stare at her face. I had to admire the way her long eyelashes brushed over her cheekbones, the way her soft purple eyelids covered her striking brown eyes. It was just me, Edward Anthony Masen, nothing more and nothing less.

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**A/N: aaaaaaaand here comes the romanceeeee(:**

**sorry it's been so long.. it's a Christmas present!!!!**

**Drunk scene = over! Not sure if it's good or not.... that's what you're for!!**

**_REVIEW!_**

**Songs: If It Kills Me (Casa Nova Sessions) - Jason Mraz  
Dear Vienna - Owl City  
Sunset, 1989 - Swimming With Dolphins**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_I'd like to say that you're my only fear._

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**1810 Chapter 14**

**BPOV**

**-**

I woke up the next morning with the worst headache I could remember. Never before could I recall a time when my head throbbed as much as now; I felt as though it was going to explode. The sun streaming through the window did not help either, it just made it worse. I slammed my eyelids shut, groaning as I rolled over on my stomach to bury my face in the cool, dark pillow.

I had experienced an odd dream last night, but I as I tried to remember it my head pounded again. I decided thinking about anything was off limits until my headache went away. The only thing I could remember was something about Napoleon Bonaparte, and purple bubbles…

The back of my neck prickled. I felt as though someone was watching me. I flipped over and sat up quickly – too quickly. The room began spinning, the off-white walls blending together. Bile rose in my throat. I threw the blanket off of me and ran to the adjoining loo, coughing up what little there was in my stomach. I wiped off my mouth and scooted myself backwards until my back was pressed against a wall. I leaned my head against it, struggling to remember the dream…

It involved Edward, and a bar. What was Edward doing in a bar? My head throbbed. I took a deep breath and stood, ambling over to the basin full of water. I scooped up the water in my palms and splashed it on my face, and I felt better.

Walking back into the room, I saw Edward sitting on one of the chairs by the window. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"How long have you been sitting there?" I demanded.

Edward shrugged, an irritating smirk playing on him lips. "Not long. I hope you feel alright – you've had quite a night."

I narrowed my eyes. So he knew. Did we share a dream? Or am I still in the dream? Or did it really happen? Oh, how my head ached. I closed my eyes and reached up to rub my temples as I said coldly, "How would _you_ know?"

He chuckled, crossing his legs in an aggravating manner.

"Bastard," I muttered.

"What was that?" Edward said, cupping a hand around his ear. "I'm not sure I heard correctly, did you just call me a bastard? Now, Isabella, I'm sure that's not something a _princess_ would say."

My eyes snapped open. My heartbeat faltered before it picked up again at double speed.

"How did you know about that?" I hissed.

"You told me. Last night, at the pub."

So it wasn't a dream, it really happened. It all came rushing back – I now knew why my head hurt so much. It was a hangover left from last night, from drinking nearly twelve mugs of beer. I now understood Edward's plan, it all made sense. He took me to the pub to get me drunk so I would open up and tell him.

"Oh, my God," I said. I raised a shaking hand to cover my mouth in disbelief. How could I have done something like that? How could I have fallen for such a simple trick? Edward was in the room now just to poke fun at me. I felt so ashamed. I wanted to cry, but I had to stay strong.

Stay strong.

"You're not going to kick me out are you?" I said quietly, rushing forward until was standing mere feet away from Edward.

He looked away. "No," he replied, just as quiet. Then he added something, so hushed I could barely hear it, "I'm not sure if I can."

"Please, Edward," I pleaded, sitting into the chair opposite Edward. "You have no idea, I –" I stopped, looking down. I began picking at a sting in my nightgown. We sat in silence for a moment.

Edward's hand reached out to cover mine, stopping my progress. I looked up at his face to see him completely serious – his emerald eyes smoldered mine. "Help me," he said. "Help me find an idea. I want to know." He sucked in a shaky breath. "I care."

I had to look away. His eyes were making me even more dizzy than the headache had, but in a completely different way. I gazed down at his hand covering mine; he immediately pulled his hand away. That hand now felt cold.

I gently reached up to sweep my hair from my face. Hearing Edward's gasp made me flinch – the memory still hurt.

"Did – did he do this to you?" Edward asked me, looking at the marks of the handprint on my cheek. I nodded slowly, careful not to shake my head too much.

"There was a diminutive rip in the sleeve of my wedding dress, so Jacob's sister Rachel slapped me. It hurt, but it was not enough to leave a lasting mark. Then Jacob walked up, asking what was going on. Rachel told him we were having a friendly talk. I thought Jacob would stand up for me when he said it did not look like a 'friendly talk'."

I stopped and began picking at the string again.

"And then…?" Edward urged. I looked at him. There was an odd glint in his eye, something I had never seen before – but then again, I'd only known him for two days. Abruptly, I was amazed at how far we'd come in such a short amount of time.

I laughed breathlessly – and attempt to make myself seem braver, to make it seem like I just shrugged it off. One big lie contained in a small laugh. "He didn't stand up for me. He told Rachel to watch and learn, and then – and then he – oh, Edward!" I said, and I threw myself on top of him. I locked my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shirt as the tears came flooding down.

Edward just sat there for a moment before he awkwardly wrapped his arms around my waist, patting my back consolingly.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It's alright, Bella. I'll be here if you need me."

I clung tighter. "I need you," I sobbed. "I'll always need you."

We stayed like that until there was a wet pool in Edward's shirt. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my nightgown, embarrassed.

Edward smiled crookedly at me, one side of his mouth pulled up higher than the other. The sight nearly took my breath away.

"Thanks, Edward," I said. "For everything. I don't know what I would do if you hadn't allowed me to stay. Gone crazy, I suppose, or die…"

Edward was defensive. "Don't say things like that, Bella. You wouldn't die, and you know it." When I looked at him disbelievingly, he sighed in exasperation. "Isabella Swan, the lighthearted princess." I smiled, and he beamed in return. Then he pressed his hand against my chest, over my heart. He felt it thud for a moment before he said, "You are strong."

I felt a newfound respect for Edward then. He wasn't really all he was cracked up to be, the prince who was infatuated with rules, and regulations. There was so much more to him than that, and I was only just beginning to find out what it was.

-

The next day was somewhat awkward. Yesterday had passed by quickly; Edward and I stayed in that guest room until sundown, just talking. He told me all about his father, and his relationship with Elizabeth. He told me all about his seventeenth birthday, the ball, and Rosalie Hale. I told him all about France, and the people in it. I told him all about my friends, Leah, Samantha, Mary Alice… I told him how much I miss them. Before he left, Edward left me with parchment and a handsome green quill.

Immediately when I woke up, I went straight to the desk in the corner. I didn't bother turning on the oil lamp, the light was bright enough outside to see. I situated the parchment in front of me, picked up the quill and began to write.

_Dear Leah,_

_Please do not worry about me, I am fine. I am staying at a very nice place with kind people who clothe me, feed me, and allow me to stay in a fine room. I will stay here as long as they allow me to, and wait as things in France and Belgium die down. I have so many things to tell you when I return. When I return to France, the first thing I will do is invite you and Seth over to stay for a term. I wish I could tell you everything right here in this letter, but I can't. I fear I will run out of parchment, and my hand will cramp up… I trust that this will not be intercepted. Just in case, burn this letter after you read it. _

_Oh, Leah, I miss you so much! I wish you could respond but I know I shouldn't put my lodging's address in the letter… But I must hear from you! Something familiar would be very beneficial. I know I shouldn't, but… I am staying at the English castle, with Prince Edward. We did not get along at first, but we are acquaintances now. I have been here for three days. The journey here was a very scary thing then, but looking back now it was very adventurous. You would have loved it, and I wish you could have been there right by my side. _

_I must go now; I have to write to Sam and Alice as well. Also my hand is practically burning. In your letter, will you please tell me how Prince Jacob is getting along? And his sisters as well, Rachel and Rebecca, I'm sure they're as mean as ever. Please hurry with your response!_

_Sincerely, Bella._

I blew on the parchment to dry the ink. I then rolled it up and tied it with silken blue ribbon. I wrote shorter letters to Samantha and Mary Alice, giving them my best wishes. I told them I was in no danger at the present time, and I told them to tell my parents and brother I would be back as soon as I could. However, I did not give either of them my current lodgings. Trusting Alice had always been hard for me, though I knew she was a very good secret keeper, just because she talked so much. I did not want to worry my parents and cause them to send the army to come and get me.

I put on one of the dresses I found in the closet. It was solid white satin, with a light blue ribbon that tied around just below my bosom. Like all dresses, it reached to the floor, covering my feet. I combed through my hair and made my way down to breakfast barefoot.

When I entered the dining hall, the first thing I registered was that Elizabeth was not present. There was a loud scraping noise, and Edward was on his feet. I looked at him, blinking.

"I, er, well, you're supposed to stand up when a lady walks in, and I haven't been doing that lately, so…" Edward stammered awkwardly. I thought I saw him blush, but maybe it was just a trick of the lights. He walked over to pull a chair out for me – the chair right across from his.

I sat down and began reaching for food, my stomach throbbing of hunger. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward sit down across from me and begin watching me; I didn't really notice him. I piled all of the food neatly on my plate. I gently unfolded my napkin, set my silverware aside, and placed my napkin in my lap. Then I began attacking my food, disregarding my silverware completely.

Edward watched me with wide eyes, fork and knife in hand. "Bella," he said, "aren't you going to use your silverware?"

I glanced up at him with a disbelieving look, half scowl and half humor, a piece of bacon hanging out of the corner of my mouth. Edward looked mildly disgusted.

I swallowed loudly. "My apologies," I said. I looked down at my plate – there was nothing left there anyway. I picked up my napkin and daintily dabbed at the corners of my mouth.

Edward looked at me silently for a moment, and then he coughed. "So, er, Elizabeth had to leave early today. She has to do her duty as queen _sometime_, I suppose."

I nodded in mild interest. After a pause, he coughed again.

"What have you been doing this morning?" he asked tightly, as if he was having internal troubles. I didn't doubt he was – this was Edward Masen, and I knew from newspaper interviews that he could be very troubled and moody. I could only imagine what must be going through his mind to make such uncomfortable small talk.

"I wrote a few letters to my friends back home, you know, telling them I was safe, and things like that," I replied in an offhand manner. "Thank you for the parchment and quill, by the way, I really appreciate it."

"Oh it was no problem," Edward answered quickly.

I studied him for a moment, wondering what his problem was.

"What's wrong, Edward?" I asked gently.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. "I don't want to talk about it," he said shortly. "I will be in my room if you need me." With that, he walked quickly out of the room.

I could only stare after him. "I need you," I whispered, knowing no one at all was around to hear me. I placed both my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands. "I'll always need you."

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: I hope this is long enough. It's only six pages on Word. Wow it feels good to write the Beta thingy again, Leah!! And thanks yall for reviewing good things about the last chapter! It made me feel good inside. hahaah. HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY, this will most likely be the last time I update in another long time.**

**Songs: Call To Arms - Angels and Airwaves  
Hot Air Balloon - Owl City  
Poision & Wine - the Civil Wars  
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit**

**REVIEW. Please. **

B/N: Seriously do you go through this and edit it? Because I found nothing wrong! :) I loved this chapter! It's very good! Seriously, people, you guys need to review this. Because if you don't I will send my cat to eat you all! *evil laugh* *chokes*

...Anyways. LOVED IT!

**A/N: Leah, YOU FAIL!! I FOUND SOMETHING WRONG THAT YOU DIDN'T CATCH! But you probaby didn't even realize, it made sense the way it was. Do you even have a cat? Emmett likes cats. So does Lily Evans.  
While I was writing this, I was getting texts from Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. It was EPIC.  
...but it's just because I changed most of the names in my phonebook to Harry Potter characters. So anyway.**

**Siriusly. I love reviews more than Malfoy loves Pigfarts. (You have to watch A Very Potter Musical on youtube to understand).**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Here's another short chapter. I think this chapter sucks. I wasn't really feelin it, and the writer's block was sinking in.... I mean, I was thinking about writing, but not about this story. I'm actually thinking about starting a new little story called 13 Reasons Why, about Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger from Harry Potter. I used to loathe that pairing, but then I read this phenomenal Dramione story on HPFF... it's called the _Game of Love _on harrypotterfanfiction so go check it out!!**

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1810 Chapter 15

**EPOV**

**-**

I hurried to my room, feeling… I didn't know what I was feeling. I just felt – different. But was it a good kind of different, or a bad kind? I felt my heart beating fast every time Bella looked my direction. I couldn't help but admire her – her courage, her I-can-do-anything personality, how happy and positive she is, how beautiful she was, inside and out. She was such a mystery to me. One minute, she'd be absolutely shining with happiness, and the next she'd suddenly be weeping on my shoulder.

What the hell was going on?

I flung myself on my bed and buried my face in the pillow, trying to get Bella out of my mind. I attempted thinking of Rosalie, but a clear picture wasn't coming up.

Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God. I couldn't be falling in love with Bella… could I?

I barely knew the girl. But somehow, I ended up here, lying on my bed like a child thinking about her.

What was happening to me? All my defenses were crumbling down, my walls crashing around my ears. I don't even know how this came to be. I've only known her for three days. But since I met Bella, my world has turned completely upside down.

Thinking of her now made me want to re-evaluate my views. I did not think I could recall a time when I could ever imagine myself in a predicament like this.

What happened to my obsession with the law? It seemed silly now. Why couldn't I just live my life and enjoy it? That's what Bella did.

I groaned. My life was suddenly more confusing than it had to be.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I mumbled into the pillow.

I rolled over to see my servant, Eric, standing in the door.

"Eric," I said in surprise.

"Prince Edward, sir," Eric said in a chipper voice. Damn him for being so happy. He reminded me of Bella. I groaned again before Eric said, "you have a guest here that would like to speak to you."

"And do they have an appointment?" I drawled in my snobbiest voice.

Eric looked confused. "Uh, sir, you've never asked for an appointment before…"

I stared at him blankly before I started laughing. I felt like I was as drunk as Bella was last night. Bella.... I sighed before shaking my head. "I know, Eric, I'm just messing with you."

"Ha, ha," Eric laughed, still looking lost. I had never joked around him before. Actually, I don't think I had ever joked very much with anyone.

"Well, let them in, I suppose," I said, standing.

Eric walked away and was replaced with a slender blonde woman. "Rosalie," I gasped, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"You always say that, Edward," Rosalie said. "Can I not come just to visit?"

"I – yes, yes!" I was so excited to see her. She was like a drug, something that numbed my mind for a while. "Come on in," I said, stepping to the side so Rosalie could walk in the room.

Rose walked in and started to look around. She went to my first bookshelf, the first of many others, and began running her hands along the spines. I wanted to tell her to stop, but not seem rude. Those were precious to me, and if they were to be damaged in any way, I would be lost. Actually, I would probably just go buy new books. I was the prince of England, after all.

God, I'm confusing myself again.

"This is a grand room," commented Rosalie after a pause.

"Thank you."

"But there's just so many… _books_." She said the word with an undertone of disgust.

I was flabbergasted. "You don't love to read?"

Rosalie sniffed. "I mean, I _can_ read," she said. "It just is not my area of interest."

I responded in a polite manner, slightly put out. I had labeled Rosalie as one who loved to read, maybe as much as I did. But then again, it would be very hard trying to find someone who read as much as I did.

I sat down in a handsome green armchair and began to make polite small talk with Rosalie. The more I talked to her, the less I thought about Bella.

"So," said Rose a while later, "have you heard anything new about the princess?" Her voice sounded different.

I was immediately on my guard. "No, I haven't heard anything new."

"Oh. That is a shame, I suppose."

"I suppose so."

"And where is Isabella? The girl you took off the streets… correct?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I did not take her off the streets," I said defiantly. "I – She's staying here with my mother. She is a family friend." It felt odd to lie, especially to Rosalie. It was even harder when she rearranged her face into an angelic smile.

"Of course," purred Rosalie. She took to walking in circles around the room. I picked up a book that was lying on the end table and began to read.

"Come walk with me, Prince Edward," Rosalie said a moment later.

I looked up. "There's no need, Rosalie," I said. "I know your motives like I know the back of my hand."

"That's funny," said Rose, "because I have no idea how _anyone_ could _possibly_ memorize what the back of their hand looks like! _I_ certainly have no idea what the back of my hand looks like and I do not understand why people keep telling me they know something like the back of their hand!"

I fought the urge not to roll my eyes. Rosalie was being extremely dim-witted today. "It's just a saying, Rose," I sighed.

"Oh," she said.

On second thought, maybe Rose had always been the stupid, but I had just been too blinded by her beauty to notice. At the ball, she was certainly a step up from the others I danced with, and that was certainly a contributing factor. I had already forgotten the other girls' names.

"So anyway, what are my motives, Edward? Pray tell." She began walking in circles again.

"You're aware that when you walk, it makes your figure more attractive. Not that you needed a purpose such as that."

Now behind me, I thought I heard Rosalie say something of a curse word. I ignored her and returned to my book.

"Someone told me that they saw a girl who looked like the princess on the streets of England," Rose said, bringing up the subject again.

"Did they?" I murmured, my eyes trained on my book.

"He said she was wearing a dress. Did the princess not run away from a wedding?"

"I do not know, Rosalie, I have not been keeping up with the goings-on in France."

"Well you should." Rosalie stopped walking. "I'm," she paused, and her voice sounded very high pitched, as though she were nervous or unsure about something, "I'm going to go find the powder room. I shall return as soon as I can."

She slipped out the door.

I relaxed in my chair. The act that I enjoyed her presence halted, but I would have to start again once she returned. Rosalie was so _boring_ to me now. It was like the flame that used to shine so brightly in Rosalie now dimmed to the light that was Bella.

In my eyes, Bella shone brighter than the sun. It was quite unfair to all the other women who paled when they compared to her…

What was I thinking?

I shook my head to clear it, closing my eyes. Behind my eyelids was Bella, her laugh ringing in my ears.

Was I falling in love with the princess of France?

And what was up with Rosalie's constant chatter of Bella? Did she suspect something? I brushed that thought away. Rosalie was not smart enough to piece something like that together.

…Was she?

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: I can't stand Rosalie. I cut this chapter short so I can get to Bella's point of view, because it involves where Rosalie is _really_ going... because we all know she isn't really going to the powder room.**

**So, long story short: prince likes princess, princess likes prince, blonde likes prince, prince thinks blonde is stoooopid. the end.**

**New story, workin on it. I'll try to update Playing Favorites later... I hate it when I have too many crappy stories I have to do... PLUS, I have CHURCH tomorrow and then one day off then SCHOOL AGAIN. I hate my life. Plus I won't be updating after that because it's competition season on dance team!!**

**WISH US LUCK, STATE NEXT SATURDAY!!! If anyone reading this goes to Westmoore High School and you know someone on the dance team, tell them they are amazing.**

**Songs: Candlelight-Relient K, the Freshman-Boyce Avenue; I Need You to Love Me-BarlowGirl; Liar-8mm**

**B/N: I hate Rosalie with a fiery passion too, Claire. I loved this chapter and your new story Thirteen Reasons Why... so, anyone who's reading this now: REVIEW THIS THEN GO READ IT! OR I'LL CHASE YOU WITH A NERF GUN FILLED WITH CHEESE!**

**...yeah, so. *cough* I start school on Monday too :( Bummer, eh?**

**Anyways, loved this chapter A LOT! Only found one mistake! :)**

**-L**

**A/N: Leah why don't you ever blod your stuff anymore?? You deserve to be bolded just as much as me if not more. And I'm pretty sure a nerf gun filled with cheese is the most hilarious thing ive ever heard. I love you so much!**

**So last night I got this random text from a number I didn't know that said "I want to snog you." I text back by saying "Good." We went on for a few more texts until I found out it was my friend Tanner who got a new phone. It was funny though.**

**So REVIEW.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**sorry it's taken so long!! I'll try to write again today(:**

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1810 Chapter 16

**BPOV**

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I sat in the guest room, attempting to read. What was Edward's problem? I wanted him to open up to me just as I opened up to him. We had to learn to trust each other.

But what was the point in gaining his faith if he was just going to put me back on the streets anyway?

Just thinking about being on the streets made my skin crawl and my heart stop. But was it really the thought of being on my own again, or was it the thought of being away from Edward forever?

There was a clamor outside in the hallway, and my door suddenly burst open.

"Rosalie," I said in disbelief as the blond stormed into my room.

Rosalie Hale stopped in the doorframe. "You're caught," she said coldly. "I know your secret."

She clearly was not one to prevaricate. Inside, however, I was panicking. Did she know I was princess of France? Did she know about Jacob? How?

But through my upbringing, I knew how to keep my face smooth, giving nothing away. "I do not know what you are talking about," I said calmly.

I realized I was still holding my book. I closed it, set it on the table, and stood.

"Oh please," said Rosalie, stepping into the room. "Do not play dumb with me."

"Please enlighten me," I said with an undertone of sarcasm. Rosalie did not seem to notice. I stepped towards the middle of the room.

"How could you not know what I'm talking about?" she demanded.

"Why do you keep beating around the bush?" I countered. "Are you afraid of what you might hear?"

"I have no reason to be afraid, _princess._"

My heart stopped. That was no coincidental pet name. "You should. I have an entire army back home that can find you wherever you hide."

"Home? Don't you realize you won't be going home?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. She was not making any sense.

"Once Prince Edward finds out he's going to behead you. Or maybe worse, he may have you disemboweled."

Picturing Edward having people take my insides out was so hilarious to me I started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Rosalie asked me. "Are you smart enough to understand what _disemboweled_ means?"

"Are you smart enough to understand French? _Vous êtes stupide__._"

"Did you just call me stupid?" said Rosalie. She was such a moron. What does Edward see in her? Why did he seem to like her more than me?

"I believe I just did."

"Edward won't stand for this."

"He already has."

Rosalie was taken aback. "He already knows?"

"He knows everything."

"Everything?"

"That's what I said."

Rosalie huffed, her face turning red. He small hands balled up into fists and she stomped up to me, her face mere inches from my own.

"I will tell _everyone_ if you continue to stay here," she threatened.

"Why?" I asked, surprised. "What does staying here have to do with anything?"

"Because Edward is falling in love with you!" Rosalie shrieked in my face. "Don't you see? He needs to love _me!_ I need his money!"

"I – what? You're _using_ Edward for his money? For his power?" My voice rose. "He genuinely liked you, for you! He told me all about you, how great he thought you were! But you never actually liked him. You never bothered to dive under the waters, you just barely skimmed the surface. You wanted the pearls but would never bother to find the oysters."

"I'm sure the Prince of Belgium is looking for you," Rosalie said, ignoring me. "So run along so I can get back to Edward –"

"I'll be damned if I let you go back to him! I cannot let you hurt him like you are going to!"

"Well then I guess you should say goodbye to this castle, because I'm sure the French army will come and get you soon when see the paper tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I screeched. "The paper is being printed _tomorrow?_"

"Yes, Swan, are you _stupide_?" I was sure Rosalie was trying to mock me, but she said the word wrong. I assumed this was not the time to correct her.

"Edward doesn't love me," I said. "We barely even know each other."

"Either way," said Rosalie, "I want to be Queen. So you better get out of the picture or say bye-bye to your dignity."

"Do you know who I _am? _I am the _princess_ _of France._ I have more power than you could ever have, even if you marry Edward. Your father is a banker, am I correct?"

Rosalie narrowed her eyes and nodded.

"My father is a king. He will always be a king. Your father, however, will always be a banker. You could never hope to live the life I live. You will never have children adore you like they do me. You will never have people look up to you like they do me. You will never love your country like I love mine. You are too shallow to even think about giving yourself up for England, while I am constantly at the ready to lay my life on the line for France. There is more to being a ruler than beautiful dresses and tiaras. It is about influence, leadership, and dedication. If you think for even one second that you could pull off being in my shoes for _one day_, you have no idea how mistaken you are. It sickens me to my stomach how you could possibly want Edward for such selfish reasons then assume you would make a good queen."

"I don't give a damn what you have to say! I just want you out!" Rosalie yelled.

"You don't give a damn about anything! The only person you care about is yourself!"

"Bella?" Edward's voice bellowed from the hallway. He tore into the room and saw Rosalie and I face-to-face in a full-blown shouting match. "Bella are you alright?"

"You love him don't you?" Rosalie demanded.

"What's going on?" Edward roared.

"Answer me, princess!"

"Bella, how did she find out?"

"_Do you love Edward Masen?_"

That shut Edward up. I felt his eyes on me, burning into the side of my face.

I looked right into Rosalie's eyes. "Yes."

Rosalie shrieked in anger at my answer, slapping me across the face. Edward rushed forward and enveloped me in an embrace calling for guards to come and take Rosalie away.

"I can't believe I listened to you, Rose!" he said as Rosalie was being led away by guards. She was still yelling curse words at the top of her lungs, outraged.

"I was so close!" she said. "Don't worry princess I'll get you! I'll get you!"

Her voice drifted away as she was led farther and farther away from the room.

"Are you alright?" Edward said, grasping the tops of my shoulders to inspect my face. Rosalie had slapped the same cheek Jacob did. I could feel the blood running down the side of my face, but I did not seem to feel it.

"Edward!" I said, hugging him closely. "Thank you so much. She said she was going to tell the papers about my secret and I couldn't – I can't – I don't know how I – oh, thank you!"

He wrapped his arms around my waist. Something warm touched my hair – his lips? I buried my face in his neck.

"Come along," he said. "Let's go get your face taped up before it gets infected."

_-_

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: I'm hoping the next chapter will be all fluff? And I've decided on an ending!! This story may be ending soon. Not really sure, but don't worry, there will be plenty of romance now!**

**Hope yall liked it!**

**Songs: Hey, Soul Sister - Train  
Calling All Angels - Train  
Break Your Little Heart - All Time Low  
Wild Horses - Natasha Bendingfield**

**B/N: Holy... oh my god! If Rosalie had slapped me, who gives a crap if I'm supposed to be a proper princess? I would have been like, "OH yeah Bitch it's ON!" (I knew she was after his money this WHOLE time, pfft... xD)**

**I have a question for you and for your readers: is it weird if I like a guy who's two years younger than myself? o.o I need some help! :)**

**I was listening to Mad World - Alex Parks while reading this btw. :)**

**A/N: I don't think that's weird. My dad is two years younger than my mom, but he doesn't look like it so...**

**ALL ROMANCE NEXT CHAPTER.  
REVIEW.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**SORRY SORRY SORRY it's taken so long. I wrote this while I was sick. Haha. OH and sorry to everyone who received an email that led to an outdated link. I posted this for like 4 seconds then remembered I had forgotten to send it to Leah so I deleted it. My bad.  
**

**oh and I'M 15 NOW!!! I got my permit whooo!!**

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1810 Chapter 17

**EPOV**

-

It had been two weeks since Rosalie had come, and I had barely seen Bella at all. She stayed cooped up in her room the entire time. Rose had been dismissed and banned from the castle the day after the incident. She and her family were going to head to the French countryside for a while, to take a break, and she had promised not to speak of Bella's status ever again. Bella had bandaged her face, but I knew it gave her more pain than she let on.

To me, it seemed that whenever I did not wish to speak to Bella, she was always there, annoying me endlessly. But when I actually wanted to talk to her, she was never within my reach.

I knew she was still in the castle – there was no way to escape. Also, I sent servants up to the guest room daily, to feed her and speak with her, but when they reported back to me, they could speak of nothing except the sadness in the girl's eyes.

I knew I caused this sadness.

I longed to go and comfort her. Every day I sat down at the dining table, staring at Bella's empty seat while Elizabeth jabbered on. Everything was exactly as it was before Bella came. Was that not what I wanted – normalcy? Every day I would take the long way to my room, walking past the guest room, hearing nothing.

Was she embarrassed? Did she wish she could take back what she said to Rosalie?

Bella loved me. The thought flitted through my head every chance it got. I kept asking myself the same question over and over again: Did I love her in return? It took a lot for me to love someone. All my life, love had been something trivial, something to disregard during my reign. A wife was there to create my heir and that was all. I knew that rarely did the king and the queen truly love each other – my mother and father were one of those rare circumstances.

But through these two weeks, I found myself lying awake in my bed thinking of how bright our future could be. Bella already knew how to rule. Mother and Father would approve of her royal status. We would balance each other out: she would allow me to let loose and have fun, and I would keep her in line. It would be perfect.

But I had told myself two weeks ago that Bella would be out of my palace the day she arrived here. I could not let her out now. Just the thought of allowing her to walk out of my life was enough to squeeze my heart painfully and send an electric shock through my body.

I could not stand for this any longer. I was Prince Edward Masen. I did not cower in my bedroom over a woman. Not even a woman like Isabella Swan, who was an angel and a devil and a mystery all wrapped up into one. I had to go talk to her.

Moments later, I found myself standing in front of the guest room door. What was I supposed to say? My mind was oddly blank. I heard a shuffling noise from inside, and my heart thudded to a pause before it picked up again double time. What if she decided to aimlessly open the door and found me standing there? Would she yell at me?

I had to quit degrading myself. I sucked in a deep breath as my flesh hit the wood of her door. The shuffling from inside halted for a moment, and then the bedroom door opened.

Bella stood there, her long brown hair flowing freely down her back. She wore a long white gown that exposed her bare feet. She smiled. Her perfect white teeth gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, just as her brown eyes sparkled with mischief and inscrutability. She did not appear to be upset. Where was the sadness my servants spoke of?

"Hey, Edward," she said. I was mesmerized by the way her lips curved around the sound of my name.

"Hello."

She bit her bottom lip nervously.

"So, I've been wondering," I began, but then I decided against what I was going to say and said something else. "I have been wondering what you have been doing up here for so long?" It came out as an uncertain question.

Bella tinkled out a laugh. "Absolutely nothing. I have mostly sat up here, brushed my hair millions of times, talked to my magical mirror friend, and sang to all the animals outside."

I chuckled quietly at her humor. I should have expected her sarcasm. It was not as if she would tell me what I wanted to hear: _Yeah, I've been crying over you this entire time and I just want you to love me back now._

But is that truly what I wanted to hear?

"Bella, I –" I just needed to come out with it. " – I – I'm sorry for what happened."

She looked puzzled.

"With Rosalie. You were pressured to say you loved me. I understand. You can come out of your room now."

To my surprise, though I shouldn't have been, Bella started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" I demanded.

"Because you're -" laugh "-so-" laugh "-funny!"

"What?" I was completely perplexed.

Immediately Bella's laughter stopped. "Not really," she said. She walked over to the chairs by the window and sat down. I followed her.

"You are so strange sometimes," I told her. She smiled, and my heart soared. I made her smile.

"Edward, I hope you know that under normal circumstances, I would have been offended by your blunt statement." Bella tried to take on a deep male voice. "_You can come out of your room now_…"

"Are you making fun of me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows playfully.

"No, sir, not at all!" She mock-saluted me.

"Good! Because I do not sound like that."

We laughed together for a moment.

"But, I suppose I'll forgive you," Bella said. "You're a man."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Men think they know everything, when they don't. They think they can control women, but they can't. In reality, women are a lot better."

"Better?" I snickered. "At what?"

"Well let's see." Bella thought about it for a moment. "Women are much better at cooking."

"I can cook."

"Women are better at making babies."

"Men can't have babies," I pointed out.

"Exactly," Bella said smugly. "That is a reason why women win." She got up from the chair and went to put something in the dresser.

"Well, men are better at hunting, and fighting."

"Obviously."

I smirked. I had won already. "And men are better at other things too…"

"Like what?" Bella asked.

"Like at making impulse decisions."

"That's not a good reason."

"And at kissing…"

Bella scoffed. "Kissing!"

I nodded. Bella walked back to where I was sitting, in the chair opposite hers, but she did not sit.

"Well, we'll see about that," she said.

I felt my eyes grow wide. "What?" I gasped.

Bella giggled. "Get up, you coward!" she urged. "Or are you afraid that a woman could beat you at something?"

I stood. "Not at all, Princess," I said. I kept my face calm, showing no sign of nervousness. I never get nervous. This was just a game, nothing more and nothing less.

She stepped closer, but I closed the gap. I looked down at her, boring my green eyes into her brown ones, trying fruitlessly to see the bottom, where her soul lies. The sweet scent of her went through my nose, and an electric tremor ran down my spine.

"I can kiss better than you," Bella nearly whispered. This was just a game to her.

I had to prove her she was wrong.

My lips crashed against hers. Her soft lips were fire against mine, and she seemed to be everywhere. Every part of my being was part of her: she was _mine_. There was a hollow ringing in my ears that weaved in and out of focus. As Bella slid her tongue along my teeth, I put my hands in her hair, sliding my fingers through her soft curls. There was no way we could be any closer than we were. I walked her backwards and pressed her back against the wall, never breaking the kiss.

The game was forgotten – my mind was consumed with Bella. I put all I had into that kiss. All my frustration since she first ran into my horse, my confusion, my hatred, my anger, and my love.

I loved Isabella Swan, the princess of France. It was inevitable. She was all I could ever ask for. I wanted to grow old with her. I wanted to have many children with her. I wanted the people of England to adore her like the people of France did. I didn't care about the power anymore. I didn't care about the money. In this moment, I only cared for Bella.

I had to get breath before my lungs collapsed. I removed myself from Bella and crashed next to her against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Wow," Bella panted. I laughed breathlessly in agreement.

I turned my face to the side to look at her. Her cheeks were stained pink. I grinned.

"Bella," I said softly. She turned to face me. I stroked two fingers from her temple to her jaw, feeling the blood pool in her cheeks as she blushed at the action.

"Bella, there's something I've been thinking about a lot lately, and –" I paused.

"Just spit it out, Edward!" Bella laughed.

"I love you."

Her smile faded, and she looked down and away. She began walking to the opposite side of the room while I stood there with bated breath.

"Edward…" she said.

"And if you don't love me back that's fine. I mean I know you were pressured when Rosalie was here and I know I have treated you unfairly while you have been here and I know that I can be stuck up sometimes but I really think that we could have something astoundingly special and you're the most amazing woman I have ever met and you have changed me like no one could for seventeen years and –"

"Edward! Stop."

I sucked in a deep breath. I felt overwhelmed, and vulnerable. I was completely defenseless. I had met my match, my biggest weakness – love. I didn't believe in it at first. I didn't believe I could change my discordant ways. I didn't believe I could love any thing or any one more than I loved the law, and my country.

My heart was preparing for the breakdown. I had known Bella for less than three weeks and I was confessing myself to her, for her. I suppose that was what love did to someone. My body was shutting down, limb by limb, my lungs were collapsing. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, why couldn't Bella just say what she wanted to already…

"Edward, I want you to know that all my life I had been raised knowing my marriage was arranged. I knew, since the time I was pooping in my bloomers, that I was going to grow up to marry Jacob Black."

My blood boiled hearing her talk about him. I calmed myself quickly and allowed her to continue.

"But that is clearly not happening." She paused to laugh. "I am not the type of person to listen to what I am told. I bend all the rules and live the way I want to. I follow my heart. And right now, my heart is telling me that I love this one very special man."

I swallowed. The man was not me. But she had not gone anywhere away from the castle for at least two weeks, who could she have seen? One of the servants? Or was she sending letters to someone at her home in France?

"This man," Bella continued, "is the most extraordinary, mysterious, unbelievable man I have ever met. He is absolutely perfect. And he loves me just as much – if not more, which is saying something – than I love him." She sighed dreamily. I felt bile rise up in my throat at this man. If he lived in England, he would be killed immediately. "He has the most astonishing green eyes, and every time I look in them I lose my train of thought. Every smirk, snort, and sneer I received from him made my heart stop, but I would glare at him to cover it up. Recently, I have noticed that these sneers don't come my way so much anymore. The smirks have been replaced with smiles. I love the way the man's lips curve around his perfect teeth. I love the musical sound of his laugh. I love how he sticks up for me when I need him, but when I need my space he gives it to me. He is perfect, nothing more and nothing less." She beamed at me. "I love Edward Masen, prince of England. I never thought I would ever find myself saying it, but I just did. I'll shout it if you want me to. _I love Edward Masen, the prince of England!_"

My heart swelled so much it was about to burst. My whole body was hot, and the ringing in my ears returned. Bella ran from across the room and jumped into my arms, kissing me fervently.

"I love you," she whispered when we broke apart.

"I love you more," I said.

"Women love better," Bella argued.

I chuckled. "We'll see about that," I said, and I kissed her once more.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1

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_**A/N: THIS IS NOT THE END. There should be a few more chapters... but I've been thinking about making the epilogue next. Yall are gonna kill me for how I'm going to end this story hahaha. But no worries. The ending will be to-die-for. (:**

**I may include Edward's proposal and the wedding if I have a next chapter.**

**I felt things moved a little fast in this one, what do you think? REVIEW me your thoughts!**

**Songs: Electric Twist-A Fine Frenzy, Heartbreak Warfare-John Mayer, Hanging By A Moment-Lifehouse**

**--**

**B/N: Sorry this took so long; I haven't wanted to get on the computer in ages and school has kept me especially busy. I've got a choir competition tomorrow and I hope we score all 1's (basically the scale is 4-1, 4 being horrible and 1 being superior). We've been practicing so hard and there's so much pressure and stress. ...Add that to the fact that the thing is at 9 in the morning and I'm gonna be extremely stressed.**

**I loved that chapter a lot, and I do agree that women are better at more things then men, but sometimes we just have to humour them and let them think that we're not as great, don't you think? ;)**

**Anyways, wish me luck tomorrow! (Oh and for all those curious, I'm an alto) :)**

**-L xx**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Hopefully, I'll have another chapter up soon. It's Spring Break in Alabama -- tons of time for me, it's too sodding COLD to go to the lake or the beach. Some spring break.**

**Things are just getting juicy.**

**Hopefully the chapters will get longer. Even though the next chapter (Edward's POV) will be short and less interesting, moving on to Bella will be!**

**Disclaimer (because I haven't made one it a while): All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.  
**

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1810 Chapter 18

**BPOV**

**-**

Not every happy ending is actually happy.

I got Edward – the glorious, perfect, handsome, brilliant, English gentleman that he is – and he got me. I have to say, he got the better end of the stick in this situation.

But of course something had to go wrong.

King Edward, Sr., will soon be returning from his excursion in Ireland – which also means Father will return soon as well.

I needed to go home, back to France. I _wanted_ to back, but I was frightened. What if they made me go back to Belgium? What if I still had to be wed to Prince Jacob?

As much as I longed to return to my home, I knew I couldn't leave Edward. He was all I could ever ask for.

My mind flashed back to the remainder of the day he kissed me – time just spent sprawled comfortably on the bed, talking and kissing. It was as though we had known each other our whole lives, instead of a week.

Had it really been a week? More or less. I lost count.

The memory of Edward's lips on my skin sent tingles through my body. He was just so _perfect._ I couldn't ever give up the feel of his fingers in my hair, the warmth of his body on mine.

But I felt as if I had to.

"It will just be for a little while," I pleaded the day after the life-changing kiss. No, I was not being dramatic – it really was life-changing.

"No," Edward stated firmly. "I refuse to allow you to leave my sight, no matter how long or short of a span you will be gone."

"I – what? Edward that didn't even make sense."

He grinned. "I know. I think it's just your smell messing with me," Edward chuckled, kissing my hair.

"Mhmm," I murmured lazily. "And what do I smell like?"

"Like flowers. Like roses and lilies and sunflowers all wrapped up in one."

I laughed. "Edward those flowers have absolutely nothing to do with each other."

He laughed, too, the deep, musical sound blending with mine. "I think it's just you wearing off on me." He leaned in to kiss me softly. I almost succumbed to the increasing intensity of the kiss, but then I pushed him off me gently.

"Quit trying to distract me," I said playfully. "I need to return home!"

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It is not that simple, Bella."

"How so?"

"You know the consequences running away from your wedding entails. You are going to have to clean up the mess you made."

I bit my lip. I would have to put up with Mother and Father, Emmett – when he returned from Canterbury – Mary Alice, Samantha, Leah, Seth, the Blacks, the press, the people… I would be overloaded. And I wasn't sure if I could trust my suddenly sporadic mood swings to handle that much stress right now.

I used to be the kind of person who was quite accomplished at handling stress – I simply blew it off. Maybe being around Edward every sodding day of my life was wearing off on me.

Over-exaggerating things was also an accomplishment of mine.

But really, I had noticed quite a few Edward-like changes in me, just as I had noticed Bella-like changes in Edward. He was much more relaxed than he used to be. He understood how to take a joke – and I had even caught him making a joke, successfully, at one point.

I, however, found myself to handle small situations with erratic moods and bitter sarcasm.

"Bella?" Edward's voice broke through my thoughts. "Love, you've been staring off into space…"

I groaned. "Why do you have to be so bloody _perfect_," I grumbled, causing him to chuckle. "No, really."

"You are getting off topic again."

"Ugh!"

His laughter rang in my ears. Despite my impending migraine, I smiled at the sound. We sat in silence for a moment, Edward holding me while he stroked my hair.

"I think you should stay here," he said after a while. "Meet my father."

"_What?_" I gasped. "You can't be serious."

I turned around to look into his face. He looked slightly offended.

"No, baby," I crooned, instantly on the defense. I didn't want to pop our insanely happy bubble over something trivial. "I would be more than happy to meet him – but things would have to change…"

"What sort of things?"

"Like the fact that I'm the bloody _Princess of France_!"

"Calm down, love," Edward said soothingly. He ran a hand down my cheek and cupped my face in his hands. "Calm down. Look at me," he said once he saw me averting my eyes from his. "This will all work out, I promise."

"Promise?" I said, looking into his emerald eyes.

"I promise. We'll never be split apart. Elizabeth can't change that, Father can't change that, and no way in hell is that bastard Jacob Black going to change that."

I smiled at his curse words he would not have dared to say so casually two days ago. A day sure can change a person.

But it frightened me. We were falling so fast… no matter how happy I was when he kissed me, the fear was still there in the back of my mind. I was scared of how willing I was to change for someone I used to despise. I was scared of how my usual calm demeanor had crumbled and now I was flitting from mood to mood like Mary Alice on drugs.

Most of all, I was scared if this didn't work out. Edward would come away with a great story of a mess, about a princess who was a dreamer with the nerve to adore him.

And I adored him, alright.

But did I adore him enough to sacrifice my family, my country? The question brought me back to the matter at hand.

"Edward," I said eventually, playing with a loose string on my dress. "I think – I think I need to go home."

I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look up from my string. He sighed, his cool breath causing my hair to fall into my face. "Whatever you think is best."

I abandoned the string, swiveling around in his arms to look at him. "Really?" I gasped.

He shrugged. It then struck me again of how fast we were falling. He was willing to allow me to travel all the way back to France – as in, across the English Channel – to go see my family. He knew the risks of me getting swept away again to Belgium, and yet he was still allowing this?

"What?" I spluttered. "Do you realize what could happen?"

He looked down at me with a serious expression. "It's up to you."

"I – but – you were supposed to argue with me! You weren't supposed to agree so quickly!"

"Well what would you like me to do, say 'no, Bella, I refuse to let you go back to your own country to see you family and friends, and return to living a normal life'?"

"I – yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to say!"

Edward exhaled noisily. "Bella this is not my decision. You and I both know you cannot live in hiding in my castle forever."

"I guess you're right…" I mumbled, playing with the string again.

"Love." I felt Edward's long fingers under my chin, coaxing my eyes to meet his. "Let's just forget about this whole thing. How about we go down and get some tea, yeah?"

I nodded. He took my hand and led me down the marble stairway and into the large parlor. However, instead of turning right to the dining hall, he took me to a small door that led to a smaller set of stairs.

We emerged from the small stairway and found ourselves in the kitchens. Servants were bustling about, cleaning dishes and preparing for supper.

"Prince Edward!" one servant called, her eyes landing on Edward and I standing in the doorway. "How do you do?" she asked, curtsying.

Edward smiled at her. "I am well, Harriet," he said kindly. The servant, Harriet, was a rather plump woman, with sparkling green eyes and flyaway red hair. "And you?"

"Quite well, quite well," she replied, flustered. "Oi! Aiden! Do you not know better than to put the onion in the soup? The Mistress hates onion!" With that, she bustled off to tend to a young boy who was working over a pot a little ways away. The boy, Aiden, did not seem to be paying attention to his supervisor, however – his bright blue eyes appeared to be glued to me.

I felt Edward's hand in mine tighten as he pulled me closer to him, wrapping an arm around my waist. I smirked.

"Jealous?" I murmured quietly to him.

He stiffened. "Of course not. Why should I be envious of a _servant_?" I caught on to the Old Edward's disdain in his voice.

"Oh, I don't know…" I trailed off, allowing my hand to ease slowly up his back and into his hair. "You don't _own_ me you know."

"Is that so?" Edward said, turning his body so he was grasping my hips with both hands. He leaned down, brushing his nose against my own. He kissed me softly on the lips; slowly at first, allowing both of us to enjoy the sensation. I felt his tongue knocking against my mouth, asking for more access. I allowed willingly, loving the feeling of his mouth moving perfectly against mine.

"Was there something you wanted, Master?" a voice asked us suddenly.

With a start, Edward and I broke apart quickly. Harriet had returned and was looking at us with an expectant expression.

"Oh, er, yes," said Edward. "Some tea and biscuits, please."

"That was awkward," I muttered.

Edward merely chuckled and pulled me closer to him. I glanced over at the boy, Aiden – he had apparently gotten the hint and had returned to making the soup. I looked at Edward, who was looking at Aiden with a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Honestly, Edward," I chastised, "lay off a bit. He knows he doesn't stand a chance. You're the Prince of England, he's not. Clearly, you have the upper hand."

Edward kissed my forehead lightly. "You are also quite a bit biased, did you know that?"

I rolled my eyes in dismissal, not wanting to admit he was right.

Harriet returned with a tray consisting of two teacups and a basket of biscuits.

"Thank you," Edward said, taking the tray. "I have it from here." He carried the tray back to the staircase and into the parlor. He led me behind the marble stairs to another spacious hallway, where a large set of glass double doors dominated the back wall.

"Edward, where are we going?"

He didn't answer, merely walking straight ahead and through the doors.

"Edward, I –" I stopped short, looking around. He had led me to the back gardens.

Home in France, we had gardens as well – part of the reason why the French palace was the most beautiful in the world – but it was… different. While the French gardens were adorned with brightly colored flowers and twisting cobblestone pathways, this garden was dominated by a colossal white marble fountain resting in the middle of the largest rose patch I had ever seen. The rose's colors seemed to all twine together – red, pink, and yellow all appearing to grow together from one plant. I had never seen yellow roses before, so, naturally, they fascinated me to most for a few moments.

I moved my gaze to the flagstone pathways that branched around the fountain and through the roses, leading to elaborate white benches and tables. Edward had set the tray down on one of these tables and had placed the teacups in front of two matching white chairs.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, drifting to where he was sitting.

He murmured his agreement, but he wasn't looking at the garden. His gaze was trained on my face, an inscrutable expression in his eyes. My heart fluttered.

I sat opposite him, reaching for my tea. Away from the fountain, I could focus on the foliage surrounding the tables. Many willow trees encased the path, miniscule pink and yellow flowers blooming on the long branches. The rush of water from the fountain calmed me instantly, the cool spring air whipping my mahogany curls into my face.

As I reached up to brush the hair from my eyes, another hand beat me to it. Edward twisted my hair in his fingers and tucked it behind my ear. I could feel the traitorous blush creeping up my neck at the contact, and I hoped Edward did not notice how his touch affected me.

I drank my tea silently, still looking around. "This is wonderful, Edward," I said.

When he did not reply, I glanced up at him. He was watching me with an unfathomable expression. It was slightly unnerving.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. What was _with_ me? What happened to my self-_confidence_? The insecurity was a new feeling for me, something I was not accustomed to.

"Nothing," Edward replied off-handedly.

I looked at him for a moment. "You're lying," I said, placing my teacup on the saucer.

He smirked. "You read me so easily."

"Yeah, well, I can be perceptive when I want to be, I suppose," I mumbled.

"I am just trying to… sort out my thoughts," Edward said honestly. "But I do not understand why I seem to look at you when I reason with myself – it clearly is not helping my thinking processes. If anything, it makes it worse."

I sighed. For a moment we both just sat there, lost in our own thoughts.

"I don't want you to go," Edward finally said.

"Me, neither," I responded quietly. "But I have to."

"I know."

I stared at Edward, biting my bottom lip.

"Bella, promise me something," Edward said suddenly. "Promise me that when I let you go, you keep this a secret."

"I –" I blanked out. "_What_?"

Edward's eyes were absolutely unreadable. "We can't have people know this happened, not yet."

"'This?'" I quoted him, dumbfounded. "I do not know what you are speaking of!"

"_This_, Bella, _us_. It can't happen."

"I – I – I don't understand," I stuttered. I felt so embarrassed. Edward was staying calm and collected, ever the epitome of perfection, and I was clinging and stammering like a child.

"Things would go wrong if people found out about this. We have to pretend like it never happened."

He was serious. He was completely serious. He was completely damn serious.

Where was _my_ calm, _my _collection? Where was my dignity when I needed it?

"Alright. Well, I guess I will go get my belongings now." I stood up and pushed the chair back under the table.

"Bella you have no belongings. Everything you have been wearing for the past week have been Elizabeth's."

Oh right. And they happen to fit like a glove.

I started to walk away, attempting to keep what pride I still grasped, when I felt Edward's hand shoot out and capture mine. He stood up and moved to where his forehead was resting against mine, his gaze boring into mine.

"You have no idea, Bella," he said softly, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "You have no idea how much this hurts me."

"Hurts _you_?" I demanded, pulling away from him. "Hurts _you?_ Do you have any shred of self-respect in your _body?_"

Without seeming to think about it, my hand raised up and smacked that man across his cheek. I began to storm away before his apology called me back.

"Bella, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry?" I said angrily, storming back up to glare at him. "Sorry? I'm the sodding Princess of France for Christ's sake! I can –"

My threat was cut short when I felt Edward's lips smother mine. More intense than ever before, I could feel every one of his emotions in the kiss. His frustration, his pain and his hurt, his giddiness, everything… it was all there. He was telling me to go, and not tell anyone, because he was looking out for me. It would be easier for both of us – hypothetically. Pretending like he meant it would have been the only way to get it through my thick head that it was what was best, for now.

But if he wanted me to pretend we never happened, he _had_ to stop kissing me like that.

"I heard some commotion out here," a chipper voice said from behind us. We sprang apart once again to find Elizabeth strolling through the garden, her brown eyes twinkling. "What's all this racket about the Princess of France?"

_Merde._

Well, shit.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1

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**A/N: CHANGE OF PLANS. I'm making this longer than I was going to.... but same ending, no worries. **

**Merde means shit in French. For all you thickheads who didn't figure that out.**

**Sorry for being so scatterbrained this chapter.............. it's late. **

**Songs: Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy; Half of My Heart - John Mayer; We'll Be a Dream - We the Kings; Cold As You - Taylor Swift**

**B/N: LOVED IT LOVED IT BLOODY FRICKIN' LOVED IT!!!**

**Sorry for the lateness of my editing; Spring Break just started today and I'm packing because I'm going to Washington D.C TOMORROW!!! AHH! SO EXCITED!**

**Breathe, Leah, Breathe!**

**...**

**Yeah, loved it and the next one will be edited shortly! **

**xx**

**A/N: Washington DC rocks the world. It's even more awesome if you're interested in photography. Leah, you're awesome. Not gonna lie.**

**REVIEW. When you review, it makes me update faster. **No really. I have three other written chapters sitting around waiting to be uploaded, but I'm holding back till I get enough reviews.**  
**


	19. Chapter Ninteen

**two-in-one, I'm so awesome! Next chapter, yall will see Sam and Alice and all them again. Bella's in for a surprise when Edward shows up at the castle's doors with a little velvet box.**

**Did they even have velvet back then?**

**Oh well. This story does not follow historical accuracy, anyway. Napoleon would actually be taking over everywhere at this point.... gah Napoleon.**

**OH AND PLEASE REMEMBER THIS STORY IS COMPLETELY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU) AND OUT OF CHARACTER (OOC). So no flames for how different the characters are, yeah? Just hate on the writing yall. I know it's scatterbrained and doesn't flow well.**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Yes, I actually did look at a map of Europe for this chapter. I had to make sure France was not somewhere landlocked....  
**

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1810 Chapter 19

**EPOV**

**-**

"I – er – we were just –" Bella tried to explain. I rolled my eyes. Trust Bella to not be capable to form a coherent sentence.

"We were discussing how the princess and Isabella are alike," I said.

"Oh," said Elizabeth, coming to a stop in front of where Bella and I were standing. "Well I want to play!"

Bella laughed. I did not. This was bad. Elizabeth was more perceptive than her immaturity gave her credit for.

My mother was one of those people who viewed the world through the eyes of a child – the simple view, with no complexities or complications surrounding the problem.

"Well, I am not going to act as if I know much about the princess, but I am positive she has brown hair just like yours! Except she commonly wears it up, I'm afraid." Elizabeth sauntered up to Bella and picked up a lock of her hair, her lips pursed. Bella looked as though she was fighting back a laugh.

"Also, the princess has brown eyes just like yours. I suppose you are alike in that way… Oh! And you two have the same name, also!"

"Yes, Queen Elizabeth," Bella said kindly, calling my mother by her common name. "My parents did not know the Royals were also naming their child Isabella as well, you see."

I furrowed my brow. I vaguely remember Bella telling a different story to cover up her name being so similar to the Swan's, but I could not remember at present. It was not as if "Isabella" was a common name for the time.

"Yes, well, you look around the same age. And I know the princess ran away from her own wedding! Smart girl, if you ask me. Those Blacks are a nasty piece of work, the lot of them! Oh, I remember when Edward had to go to a meeting with them…" And so Mother's storytime began.

Elizabeth was close to the most obvious clue of Bella's identity – the wedding. Surely Elizabeth must remember Bella's arrival at the palace. Bella was clad in a filthy white dress, her brown eyes narrowed in malevolence – malevolence that was aimed at me.

It struck me how we absolutely loathed each other a few days ago. I remembered how Bella got herself stuck in the canopy over the bed – it was such a typical Bella action. I used to think Bella was a spy.

Suddenly, my own words echoed in my head. "_I want you out by the evening, or I shall have you beheaded._" Yet here we were. I found myself wanting to kiss her, and letting her out of my sight pained my chest so much I could not bear to think of it.

"_Never go back on your word, Edward," _Father had told me. I was twelve years old. _"No matter what you say, you've got to do it. I suppose you could put it off for as long as you like, but it has got to happen sometime. If not, you should know you would not make a good King, and you should therefore resign your title and allow a different person the throne."_ I remembered staring straight into my father's eyes as he gripped the tops of my shoulders. _"As a Masen man, if you go back on your word, Edward, you would rather kill yourself."_

My word had been to behead Bella. But – no. I could not do it.

"Bella." I interrupted my mother's story sharply, and she sent me an irritated look. "Bella you have to leave."

"What?" Bella asked. She had clearly been interested in Elizabeth's story, which did not surprise me. Elizabeth was a very good speaker.

"Just go. I'll give you some money, and I'll explain later. You just have get leave here. Now."

Bella looked at me, absolutely bewildered. "But, Edward, I don't und–"

I cut her off when I grabbed the tops of her arms and kissed her soundly. It was a very effective way to get her to stop speaking – if only I had remembered Elizabeth knew not of our relationship.

"Edward Anthony Masen!" she exclaimed. I ignored her and kissed Bella as hard as I could, keeping the contact for as long as possible. I never knew if this was going to be the last time.

When we broke apart, I reached into my pocket, extracting the €300 from my breast pocket. It was not as though I commonly carried €300 in my pocket – I had placed it there for this purpose only. I knew I was going to have to face a problem today.

"Expect a letter. Eric?" I called for my servant loudly. The servant's quarters were on the hall leading to the gardens, and Eric's room was the last on the hall. I knew he could hear me.

The oily-haired boy appeared after a brief moment, ready for his command.

"Yes, Prince Edward?" Eric said.

"Please show our guest to the carriages. Find her the finest liner across the Channel, and ensure her safety to France."

"Yes, sir. I shall alert the footmen."

"Thank you," I said curtly.

"Edward, when will I see you again?" Bella asked. Her eyes looked frantic, and it pained me to see her knowing I caused her troubles.

"I do not know."

"Edward!" Elizabeth snapped.

"Just a moment, Mother!" I said sharply. I did not want to have to deal with her nagging at this point in time. "I will explain everything later!"

Eric returned. The stables were not far, so the trip should not have taken long, but the speed still surprised me. I was not positive if I could trust myself to allow Bella to leave. Everything was happening so quickly. All my training, everything I worked for, all the practice I had with impulse decisions had seemed to vanish. Did this mean I was not prepared to be king?

I shook my head. Kingdom did not matter to me right now.

"Edward!" Bella's voice called to me.

"You are making this harder, Bella! _Go!_" She had to get out of here before I did something rash.

"Edward, I love you."

The pain in her eyes was evident as Eric led her away. My heart clenched at her words, and it scared me. I should not care about someone as much as I care about Bella. This was bad.

"I love you, too," I said, though now she and Eric were out of earshot.

"Edward, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Elizabeth demanded, rounding on me. "What is going on?"

"She was it," I said. That was all I planned on saying. I stood in place for a moment, and then began to stride away, back to the castle.

"She was _what?_ Edward you know that relations with commoners are forbidden!"

I stopped and spun around. "She wasn't a commoner!" I practically yelled at my mother. "She wasn't!"

"Well what else do you expect her to be, the bloody Princess of France?"

"That's exactly what she was!" I growled in frustration. "Don't you see, Mother? She arrived at our castle in a white dress, covered in mud. She was wearing what appeared to be a very expensive gown. She looks just like the princess, they even have the same name! Don't you get it? The princess was on the run from her _wedding_. Bella escaped from Belgium to here on her own. And I just sent her away again, oh, _God_, I –"

I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"Are you telling me that the woman we have been keeping in the guest room this whole time has been the damn princess of France all along?" Elizabeth was flabbergasted.

I nodded, taking another deep breath.

"I loved her, Mother. Really, I did."

"Come now, Edward, be logical. You barely knew the girl!"

"I know her better than you would think. A few days with her, and she has me wrapped around her finger…"

"Way to go, Edward, you let her go!" Elizabeth said. She had such a way with words.

"I know!" I said loudly. I calmed myself before repeating the words, quietly, "I know."

"Why?"

"I had to. Father is returning. That means her father will be returning, as well, King Charlie. Her family and friends must be worried sick. They most likely think that she – that she –" I swallowed. The thought of Bella dying made my throat dry up.

"There, there," Elizabeth said, gliding over to pull me into a bone-crushing hug. "If you really want her so much, why don't you go and follow her?"

I shook my head. "I can't do that. I cannot leave my country."

"She left hers," Elizabeth stated.

"What are you implying?"

"Well, it seems to me Bella seems to know what's better – following her heart. I think it was about time you did the same."

It sounded, to me, like a challenge. _"Are you afraid that a woman could beat you at something?"_

I groaned, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. I rubbed my palms over my eyes.

"Edward," Elizabeth said, watching me, "why did Bella run away?"

The thought of Prince Jacob touching her made my skin crawl. "He hit her."

"What?" Mother gasped. "_Who_?"

"Prince Jacob Black." Bastard.

Elizabeth made a gagging sound in the back of her throat. "I knew I never liked them. It was smart of her to run away. I hope she tells everyone what he did."

And not tell anyone about us. Was I happy about that? I loved Bella, I really did. There was no turning back. I had to have her. I wanted her. I _needed_ her. Suddenly, I felt as though everything was all wrong. Bella needed to be _here_, with me. She needed to tell the whole world about how much she loved me, because I sure as hell needed to. Damn anyone who tries to stop me.

"I have to go," I said abruptly, spinning on my heel and marching back into the castle.

"Are you going to go find her?" Elizabeth called after me.

"Yes!"

"Good luck with that!" Elizabeth responded, sarcasm lacing her tone.

I wheeled about, demanding to know what she was on about.

"You know no liners run across the Channel after twilight. The carriages could never get you there on time."

Damn. Twilight. How I loathed the time of day. The end of another day, the return of the night. **(**_**Twilight**_**, pg. 233)**

"The carriages…" I repeated thoughtfully. "That's it! Elizabeth, that's it! I'm taking Philippe!" Philippe was my white horse that I rode whenever I went hunting, or merely on a stroll.

I changed my direction and ran toward the stables.

"Just where do you think you are going, young man?" Elizabeth demanded.

"To buy a ring!"

"Buy a – holy shit you're getting _married_?"

"Yep!" I yelled, overcome with giddiness. I chose to disregard my mother's colorful language. "I'm off to find my princess!"

Ignoring Elizabeth's shouts behind me, I rounded the corner into the stables and to Philippe's stall. I slid the saddle off the rack and slipped it on my beast's back, strapping it around the belly. I checked my breast pocket. I still had €200 left – that was more than enough for food and water, plus money left over for a ring.

"Alright, Philippe," I muttered, brushing his mane. "Are you ready for this?"

The horse neighed in response. Grinning, I opened the door of the stall and climbed onto his back. Philippe rocketed out of the stables, rushing down the hill that led up to the castle. The feel of the wind whipping my hair felt good – it was as though every worry and every doubt was being whisked away by the airstream.

We darted through the roads, dodging carriages and people. I kept having to coax Philippe to go as fast as he could until we reached Brighton.

It did not take up long until we were within Brighton limits; we just had to follow the main road from London. The quickest way to France was through the Brighton boat docks, and from there we would arrive by boat in Le Havre. Then we would follow the road to Paris, stopping on the way to buy a ring.

After a while, I could spot the grey haze of the English Channel in the distance. The boat docks were busy, of course – workers were preparing to close up for the night.

"Whoa," I stopped Philippe when we got close to the dock. I scrambled off his back and ran to the ticket booth.

"Hello, sir," I said breathlessly, "When did the last boat leave?"

"Uhhhh." The man at the booth scratched his head. "'Bout ten minutes ago."

"When does the next boat to Le Havre leave?"

The man looked at me warily. "Tomorrow," he grunted.

"_Tomorrow_?" I gasped. No way. No way in hell did I just ride all the way down here for no fucking reason. "No, sir, you have to listen to me. The love of my life just left on that boat to Le Havre, I _have_ to get to her before –"

"Sorry, kid, we don't do sympathy rides. Come back tomorrow."

"I am Prince Edward Masen, and I demand you let me on the next boat right this instant!"

The man snorted. "Yeah, and I'm the Pope." He rolled his eyes at me. I was astonished at his lack of respect for his superiors. "Look, kid, there _are_ no more boats to Le Havre. Even if I _did_ let you and your little pony on the boat, I couldn't, 'cause there ain't any."

I looked back at Philippe, standing there waiting for me diligently. He certainly did not look like a "little pony" to me.

"Oi, George," a worker addressed the ticket man. "What's the problem?"

"There's a bloke here who wants a sodding boat to Le Havre!" the man gruffed. "I told him, I says, 'there ain't no more boats to Le Havre,' but he keeps on pushin'…"

"Didn't you know, George?" the worker said, coming over to clap a hand on the ticket man's shoulder. "Alexander's Pontiac boat got cancelled. There weren't enough customers to make the dreaded Channel trip worth it."

A Pontiac boat – perfect. That way, I could allow Philippe to ride, as well, since Pontiac boats were lined with safe stables made for horses.

"Is it going to Le Havre?" I asked the worker.

He nodded. I grinned, said, "I'll take it," and went to grab Philippe by the reigns and lead him to the boat. I probably wouldn't get to France until late that night. As it would be unsafe to ride with Philippe in the dark, I resolved I would find an inn to stay the night in Le Havre, then the next morning follow the road into Paris.

That was it. I had my strategy all planned out. As I went to help the workers load up the Pontiac boat, I thought of how hectic this day had been.

I refused to go back on my word. I had promised Bella this would all work out.

Then again, I also promised to behead her if she was not out of the castle within a night – and that promise turned out oh-so-perfect.

With a groan, I followed two other customers onto the boat, situating Philippe into a stall. This was going to be a long night.

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1.... if she'd check her EMAIL for my DOCS!! haha jk. i love you leah._

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**A/N: Well, I ranted enough at the top. I think I need to remind yall to REVIEW, though, yall are SLACKING!!!! hahaha(:**

**Songs: Apathetic Way To Be - Relient K; Secret Valentine - We the Kings; Beautiful Eyes - Taylor Swift; Your Body Is a Wonderland - John Mayer**

**B/N: Loved it! UPDATE SOON! If you send another update to me tomorrow or any time before Wednesday afternoon I won't get it because of the Washington D.C trip. So, on Wednesday when I get back I'll edit and send you back a chapter (if you send me one).**

**Love you guys and yes you all need to REVIEW.**

**Love you Claire!! **

**xx**

**A/N: Reviewing makes me update faster. I've written half of the the next chapter... longest ever. Should be about 8,000 words, which is a record for me. I thought about splitting it into two, but two BPOV would be weird......... but reviews make me more motivated. Want a sneak peek? :D**

After a short pause, Alice's hands reached under my face to smooth my hair back into its bun. She then coaxed my chin up. I kept my gaze down, my last chance to hide my identity from her.

"Oh, look, a porcupine!" Alice suddenly gasped, pointing in a random direction.

My eyes snapped up in interest.

"OH MY GOD!" Alice screamed, and suddenly I felt her tiny body collide with mine. I took an unsteady step backward, about to topple over the platform and fall down the stairs again. "BELLA! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S YO –" Her sentence was cut off when I slapped my hand over her mouth.

**that doesn't give away much. I love porcupines.**

If you like porcupines, review. (:


	20. Chapter Twenty: I

_Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone._

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1810 Chapter 20

**BPOV**

**-**

Once Eric had ensured my safe arrival at the boat docks, he ordered the carriages to return to the castle in London. I was left to dock the boat alone, which was something I had never done before. There was always someone with me – more often than not, they were unwelcome. I usually just wanted to be left alone, but now there was no one with me I wanted the company.

The workers around the dock kept sneaking glances at me when they thought I was not looking. I bet I was quite a sight to them. What was a beautiful young woman like myself doing roaming the docks of Brighton without a man? It was unheard-of. Women could go hardly anywhere without a man.

I boarded the boat with my head held high, trying to get a grip on myself. Edward was just Edward. I could move on. I mean, I hated the man only mere days ago, it should not be hard to switch back to that loathing… right?

Oh, who was I kidding? I could not get him out of my head. With a sigh, I hurried onto the boat, finding a wooden bench situated on the deck for passengers who wanted to see the Channel. There was a large cabin to my left for shelter if needed. The trip across the Channel was not a long one – one merely had to withstand the rocking motion of the water.

As I waited for the boat to leave the dock, I thought about my predicament.

In my mind, I was longing for Edward to follow me to Paris, showing up in front of the palace on a white horse with the words "will you marry me?" fresh on his lips. But I knew it was just wishful thinking – Edward would not follow me. He would be at the English castle, awaiting his Father's return from Ireland with Elizabeth at his side. Even if the thought of following me had crossed his mind, Elizabeth had probably stopped him from going. I briefly pondered if Edward had honestly explained the situation to his mother. I doubted it. It was not as if it was a very believable story.

The sudden halt of commotion around me alerted me the boat was about to set sail. With a jolt, the boat began to drift away from the dock, southbound. I did not pause my thoughts for long to watch the blue water skim the bottom of the boat.

It just now struck me that I had not written to Corin, my lifesaver. He was the man who shot the animal that was following me in the forest after I escaped Brussels. He took me across the Channel in a fishing boat – I was not worried that this boat could not withstand the rampant waters. He told me to write to him. It was funny how I seemed to have a talent to make friends so quickly, but all my friends slip out of my grasp until I am sitting on a boat in the middle of the English Channel with no one.

I had told Corin my name was Sarah Grace. It was not as though I was going to tell him, "Yeah, my name is Isabella Swan, you know, the Princess of France?" No. Life did not work like that. I could not write to him even if I wanted to, for I did not know where he lived, or if he told me, I did not remember. Corin probably did not remember me anyway. I barely remembered him with all the excitement of the past week.

As the boat shook me from side to side on the bench, I thought of how much my life had changed. Miss Isabella Swan, the beautiful, fun-loving princess of France. Daughter of King Charlie Swan and Queen Renee, sister to the next heir, Emmett Swan… set to be wed with Prince Jacob Black of Belgium, believed to be one of the most admired princesses of all history… I'd heard all of it before. Everything had changed so drastically, and my head throbbed just thinking of it.

Stifling a groan, I put my head in my hands, pressing my palms to my eyes. Samantha Fitzgerald, Mary Alice Brandon, Leah and Seth Clearwater… the faces of my friends swam around in my mind's eye. A tug pulled at my heart – I had not realized I missed them as much as I did. Sam and Alice had been there for me practically my whole life, and to repay them I run away and send them one scanty letter telling them I was fine, and wishing they were well.

I barely noticed when the boat was being pulled into the dock of Le Havre; I was so lost in my thoughts. The trip seemed like only a few moments as opposed to the hour it was supposed to be. I looked up at the sky – it was twilight.

I glided over to the ticket man to pay for a carriage ride to Paris. Clambering into the closest one, I gave the heeder to directions to the palace. He did not seem surprised when I told him where I wanted to go – I supposed he was accustomed to commoners wishing to tell Father of their troubles. That was what the monarchy for, was it not?

Inside the carriage, I was restless. I just wanted to get home and sleep. The night would hold off all the questions until the morning. I contemplated sneaking in through the back and using a small passageway to get to my room, just to avoid anyone. As much as I longed to see my friends, I could not face them right now. I looked like a mess. My face was tear-streaked from my earlier thoughts, my eyes bloodshot. My hair was ratty and full of tangles for how many times I had run my fingers through it on the boat.

Mother would, quite literally, have a cow if she saw me like this. With a noisy sigh, I flipped my head over, gathered my locks in my hand, and spiraled my hair into the traditional bun. I rubbed my cheeks with my palms like Mother taught me, making my cheeks look charmingly flushed while wiping away the smudges from the tears. There was not much to do about the eyes.

Once I was sure I was presentable, I returned to my moping.

Edward was so selfish, I decided. How could he ever pretend we never happened? Maybe he did not feel as strongly for me as I did for him. Maybe, for him, romance was at the bottom of his Things To Do list. _I_ was the dreamer in this fairytale. _I_ was responsible for everything. _I _kissed him first. Without me, Edward would not have found the girl of his dreams.

Maybe I was being a little conceited, but it was true. He said so himself, in a slightly different context. I suppose it would sound a bit feminine to say, "Bella, you're the girl of my dreams." It was more like, "Isabella, you are the most amazing woman I could ever ask for." Then he laughed and added, "And I have asked for a lot in my lifetime." I did not bother to point out that we were both only eighteen, and my lips were covered by his so I did not even attempt at that point to state my logic.

But it did not matter anymore, I supposed. God, I hoped some _salope_ came into his life later on and made his existence a living hell. Someone like Rosalie.

_Mon Dieu_, that girl was a handful. A lot more trouble than she was worth, if you ask me. She deserved to rot away in a jail cell for what she did. Maybe that was just me being a little subjective, but still. She could have caused a _lot_ of problems with her little fun and games, and all she got was a little vacation to the beautiful French countryside.

I fell in love with Prince Edward Masen, and I got sent back to my own country – away from him. I guess one could say the same of Rosalie, only my case of the lovebug was a tenfold worse than hers could ever be.

At that moment, the footman stuck his head through the back window. He was clearly not a native; he looked somewhat Spanish. Those Spaniards were always coming to work around the Channel. "_Ces poissons, ils sont mort d'irradiation_?" he asked, his French choppy.

My brow furrowed. He had just asked me if the fish had died from radiation sickness.

"Ehhh..." was all I could manage. I didn't see any fish. Usually, when people asked me a question in French, I could see where they were coming from and answer their question. With this footman, I had no clue in hell what he was on about, so I didn't respond.

"Uh," he said, "_As-tu parle anglais_?"

"_Oui_," I said, rolling my eyes and folding my arms across my chest.

"Okay, good," the man said in English, his accent heavy. Yep, he was definitely Spanish. "We will be arriving at the French palace shortly.

"Alright, thank you," I said calmly as the footman returned to his post on the back of the carriage. However calm my demeanor was on the outside, my mental state was breaking down.

_OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod_ I screamed at myself.

A velvety, musical voice filled my head at that moment, amusement lacing his tone. "Bella, love, calm down," Edward told me in my head.

I almost smiled at how clear his words were. He had said them so much throughout the day they were practically engrained in my memory.

However much I wanted to succumb to my Edward memories, I could not allow myself to be distracted. I felt jittery, unsure of what to do.

Eventually I just decided to sneak in. I would sleep in my own bed, and in the morning Sam would come up like she does every morning to clean. I knew she would, even with me being gone. It would be sort of her dedication to me if I had died to keep my room spotless. I knew how the thought. We were so alike – it was what I would do if I was the servant and she was the princess.

But if she were the princess I wouldn't have to think about my plan to sneak up to my room in the first place.

When Sam would walk in and see my unconscious form in a heap under the covers, she would scream in shock and throw the duster over her shoulder, where it would break the window and fly into the garden to hit someone else on the head, then that someone would swear loudly and wonder what the bloody hell was going on in the missing princess's bedroom.

Well, maybe that wouldn't happen, but it would still be comical.

At the sound of her scream, I would awaken and shout "Surprise!" and everything would work out fine.

Or not.

The footman stuck his head in the window again. "Almost there, miss," he said. "If you look, you can see the castle coming around the corner right about now."

He disappeared as I looked out the carriage window and saw the spectacular white castle loom ahead, silhouetted against the brilliant moon.

I took a deep steadying breath as the carriage wheeled up to the front of the castle. The footman opened the door and took my hand, helping me out of the coach.

"Thank you," I said, trying to pull my hand away. The footman kept a steady grip on me, bringing my hand up to his lips as he kissed it. His dark mustache bristled against my smooth, pale hand, and I snapped it back as soon as I could.

He was creepy.

I began walking toward the castle and the sound of the carriage's wheels on the path grew faint. Instead of walking to the front doors, where two guards were standing, I began to walk to the left, where I would loop around the castle and go up from there.

But the guards weren't stupid, they knew better than to allow some random woman to circle around the castle.

"You there!" one of them yelled at me.

"Damn," I sighed. I was hoping they would just stand there like statues and ignore me, but apparently everything I hope for never actually happens. I waddled up to them slowly, taking my time. I was careful to stop to the side of the doors, so if someone walks by the glass panels they would not see me.

The guards did not recognize me, which was normal. Father was absolutely terrified of some incident that happened in 1723 that he changed the guards out every two weeks. Week One: in Belgium, Week Two: in England. I sure got around.

"Hello, gentlemen," I said coolly, keeping my manner confident. I had to pull off the poise for my excuse to work.

"What are you doing here?" the guard farthest from me asked.

"I live here," I said with a slight laugh, gesturing grandly to the castle.

"Prove it," the other guard said gruffly.

"Well, you see, my mother – Queen Renee – had set me up for this outing with Prince Jacob and I simply _had_ to go." So far so good. "He _is_ my… husband, after all." The guards did not seem to notice my hesitation where I had to swallow some bile before calling Jacob my husband. He would be my husband only when hell froze over.

The guards seemed to relax, believing my story. For, really, hardly anyone at this point would be dumb enough to break into a castle, so their job was very easy – stand there all day and look intimidating.

"Oh, I heard about that," Guard Two said to Guard One.

"How was the honeymoon, Your Highness?" Guard One asked me.

I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face. I had the decency to allow a blush to creep up my neck, accenting my little lie. They did not have to know I was blushing over the face that I set most of the Black's plants on fire and played futball with the pots. "Oh, you know…" I trailed off, thinking of my story. "It was amazing. We stopped in Roma for a few days, then moved down to Palermo. If only the media did not track our every move…" I sighed wistfully.

The guards nodded in agreement. I resisted the urge to smirk – they were eating out of the palm of my hand.

I faked a yawn. "Well, now I am absolutely beat. I am going to take the quick route to my bedroom, is that alright?"

Murmuring their agreement, the guards allowed me to return to my detour around the castle. I heard snippets of their conversation as I left.

"What a lovely girl."

"No wonder she was married so young, she's wonderful!"

"My little niece looks up to her so much… Did I ever tell you about Olivia?"

I smiled as I rounded the corner, weaving my way through the cobblestone and through the gardens. I knew my way around the castle so well that even in the darkness I had found the back door in no time.

Glancing over my shoulder, I opened the door and rushed inside. There was no one in the corridor at all. I supposed it was around midnight, all the servants would be in bed. I knew for a fact Mother would not be wandering around this side of the castle so late at night.

My slippers made no noise as I padded down the hall to the hole in the wall where a stone spiral staircase was situated, leading up to each floor of the castle.

I picked up the hem of Elizabeth's dress as I began to walk up the stairs, as I did not want to rip it in case Edward and his white horse returned to pick it up.

My bedroom was on the fourth floor, and I had not yet reached the first, since I had started on ground level.

I kept my eyes glued to the steps as I made my way up. I knew from personal experience that if I kept looking ahead I would very dizzy from how tightly the staircase was wound. After a while, I found myself a few steps away from the third level.

Halfway there. I was beginning to think my plan to sneak in could work.

That is, until I walked into something small and was thrown backwards, rolling down the stairs until I smacked onto the second floor landing with a groan.

"Ugh," a high-pitched voice moaned, sounding dizzy from a distance. "Oh, my God!" Footsteps hurried down the stairs, stopping when I heard them next to my ear.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching –" the voice worried from somewhere above me. I couldn't see. My vision was clouded with fluffy white cloth – my petticoat. My dress was up around my ears, and my petticoat was tangled around my waist, which only meant I was flashing my bloomers to whoever had hit me. At least it sounded like a girl, and not some random bloke. The voice sounded oddly familiar, though my head hurt so much now I did not bother trying to place it.

"Here, let me help you," the voice said. I felt hands trying to pry my petticoat out from behind my back, and my thrashing about was not making the task any easier. "These stairs aren't made for two-way travel."

I immediately stopped squirming when it clicked. Mary Alice. I had run into Mary Alice, that's why I recognized the voice. I could feel her hands working to untangle my dress, only moments away from finding out who I was.

Why was it I always got tangled up in things no one else ever did? I wasn't just talking about canopies and dresses, either. The answer was clear: no one else was the sodding Princess of France.

"Uhhh…" I squeaked, my voice unnaturally high-pitched. I was grateful for the nerves, for it meant it was more difficult for Alice to discern my identity. I couldn't possibly deal with her knowing it was me right now. I just wanted to go to bed.

I struggled against Alice's grip. "I can handle it," I told her. "Just go to bed."

I could picture Alice's frown in my head. I knew she wasn't going to just leave me here, she was too kind to do something like that to someone else.

Alice made a huffing sound. I could see her biting her lip, as she always did after she made that noise, and looking pensively into the distance.

"No," she whispered to the air after a moment. I knew she wasn't talking to me.

Abruptly, her hands were at my dress again, a new vigor in her movements. I flipped over onto my stomach, helping Alice tear the cloth away as I mashed my nose to the cold stone floor. When Alice was done, she would not be able to see my face, and if she did, I was hoping my nose would come up looking like a pig's snout instead of a real nose. Maybe it would throw her off.

Before long, Alice had my dress wrapping around my ankles like it should be. I kept my face on the ground as I felt her straighten up from her crouch.

"Look, I sorry I knocked you down the stairs," Alice apologized. "But it's well past midnight now, you might as well get up and go to sleep."

"Oohgeonhedfiffomuhubefre," I mumbled to the floor.

"Er, what?"

I turned my head slightly to the side so my words would come out clearly. "You go ahead without me, I'll be fine. My head hurts, is all. I need a moment to gather my thoughts." Even though I had plenty of time while my dress was up in my ears.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alice frown.

"I can't," she said. "The platform isn't wide enough for me to step over you without falling down myself."

"Oh, okay. Well, in that case, I suppose I'll be off –" I got to my feet quickly. Without bothering to dust myself off, I grabbed the door handle of the second floor, intending to scramble through before Alice could catch on, but she got to it before I did. She stood in front of the door, blocking my escape. I hung my head, hoping my disheveled hair would cover the majority of my face.

After a short pause, Alice's hands reached under my face to smooth my hair back into its bun. She then coaxed my chin up. I kept my gaze down, my last chance to hide my identity from her.

"Oh, look, a porcupine!" Alice suddenly gasped, pointing in a random direction.

My eyes snapped up in interest.

"OH MY GOD!" Alice screamed, and suddenly I felt her tiny body collide with mine. I took an unsteady step backward, about to topple over the platform and fall down the stairs again. "BELLA! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S YO –" Her sentence was cut off when I slapped my hand over her mouth.

"Alice!" I castigated. "Are you mental? Be quiet! Don't you know better than to – eeurgh!" I made a noise of disgust when something slimy ran along my palm that covered Alice's mouth. I immediately let go and Alice flew off of me, landing on her feet gracefully with a smug smirk on her face.

The smirk lasted about three seconds before she was excited again, bouncing around the platform, happily chanting, "You're back! You're back! You're back! You're back!"

"Shut it, Alice! No one can know I'm here!"

"You're back! You're back! You're back!"

"Are you _trying_ to wake up the entire castle?" I hissed angrily.

Alice stopped bouncing long enough to blink at me for a moment. Her mood immediately shifting, she placed both hands on her hips and glared at me. "Where have you been, missy? Do you have any idea how worried Sam and I have – OH MY GOD SAM! She _has_ to know you're here!"

"Alice, stop," I said, grabbing her hand as she began to rush down the staircase. "She'll find out soon enough. You can't tell anyone I have returned, alright?"

Alice nodded and then glanced back to the stairs wistfully. I sighed. "I just want some sleep, Al, okay? I'll explain everything tomorrow. Please don't wake Sam right now."

She seemed to take me in: my bloodshot eyes and the bags underneath, the untidy hair, the filthy dress. She nodded again and allowed me to begin climbing the stairs.

Just when I began thinking of how simple that had been, she called me back. "You better swear to me you know what you're doing," she threatened. "You've probably thought up some hilarious situation in your head on the way up here, but more than likely it's not going to turn out like that. You can't just go to sleep and shout "surprise!" when someone walks in and sees you."

"Damn," I grumbled.

"I won't tell Sam, but you had _better_ explain yourself first thing tomorrow."

"Alright, I will." I began to head up the stairs before I stopped myself and called for Alice once again. "Alice? What are you doing up so late?"

She blushed. "I – well, I was –"

"Snooping around in my bedroom?" I asked, smirking.

"No!" responded Alice indignantly. "I – well, yes. I've just missed you so much! Being in your bedroom makes me feel better for some reason." She turned and disappeared down the spiral staircase.

I smiled, thanking God for blessing me with such caring, yet mental friends.

When I finally tiptoed into my bedroom, everything was exactly as it should be, spotless; nothing out of the ordinary. Not that I had expected it to be, but still. I stripped out of Elizabeth's dress and let my hair down, jumping into the bed and falling asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

The next morning I awoke to a scream. My eyes flew open in enough time to see a duster fly in the air before someone was bouncing on top of me.

"BELLA! IS THAT REALLY YOU? OH MY GOD!"

"Wussgoinon?" I mumbled groggily. I peered up at an ecstatic brunette as she bounced around with excitement. "Sam?"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE HERE! I HAVE TO TELL ALICE!" The bed creaked as she got off and rushed to find Alice. I took the time to catch a bit more shut-eye before I had to go and face Mother.

A few minutes later, Sam and Alice barged in the door, arguing.

"I saw her last night, dimwit!" Alice retorted to whatever Sam said.

"I saw her this morning! Nearly threw my duster out the window, I did."

"Did you think to wake her up?"

"I did! I jumped on top of her!"

I heard Alice sigh. "You know how Bella loves her sleep."

I opened my eyes. "Hey."

More screaming.

"YOU COME BACK HOME AFTER TWO WEEKS OF BEING MISSING AND SAY 'HEY' AS A GREETING?!" Sam yelped.

I squinted in the bright morning light at them. "Well, what do you bloody expect, a '_Surprise_?'"

"Well, no, but you still have to tell us where you've been!" Sam and Alice shut the door and sat excitedly on my bed, looking at me with expectant looks.

I took a deep breath. It was too early for this. All I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and never wake up. That way I would never have to think of my friends, my parents, my brother, my country, and, the most occurring thought of all, Edward.

Groaning, I pushed this last thought from my mind. I did not want to have to think of him. Just his name floating through my head brought along a sharp pinch in my chest – he did not want me any longer. All we had been, even for such a short time, was so amazing; all we were, all we could have been, all we could _be_.

"What all do you two know so far?" I asked them.

"We just know you ran away from Prince Jacob's wedding," answered Alice.

"We have no idea _why_, that man is gorgeous –"

"I've heard he's a bit of a jerk, though –"

"– although I do not think that you two look good together –"

" – and his sisters are supposed to be a little bit on the bitchy side –"

"Alice!" Sam chastised. "Do not swear!"

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking down. The action was short-lived, and Alice threw herself on my bed with a shriek. "But enough pointless talk, tell us what happened!"

With a heavy sigh, I looked at my servants: basically my two best friends, who have been there for me throughout my whole life. Running a hand through my hair, I launched into my story, beginning with the wedding.

When I got to the part about Edward, they stopped me – yet again. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, as Sam and Alice kept interrupting between practically every sentence.

"Wait, so you got to meet Prince Edward Masen?" Sam said in clarification.

I nodded.

"He is absolutely _dreamy…_" Alice sighed. My stomach twisted in jealousy at her words, though I had no reason to be jealous. We weren't supposed to have even been together, after all. It was all a mistake, and not at all worth the following heartbreak.

"Anyway," I pressed, gritting my teeth. I continued my story with more disruptions here and there, comments on Elizabeth, Rosalie, or the British castle.

Finally coming to a close, I could not finish my tale.

"And? What happens next?" Alice demanded eagerly.

"I –" My throat closed up. Should I keep Edward's proposal to myself, and pretend like our relationship never happened? Could I keep something so crucial in my life from my friends? Never. They would just be hurt if they found out and I hadn't told them. "I – Edward told me to not tell anyone about our romance. He said it would be best if we kept it to ourselves, for now."

Sam and Alice yelled out their protests.

"Shhh!" I hissed at them desperately. "Don't wake up Renee!"

Once she had calmed from her outrage, Sam frowned. "You are going to have to face her sooner or later, you know."

"I know. But the story is so extensive, and all I really want to do right now is sleep…" I looked longingly at my pillow.

"That bastard," Alice fumed. "After all that you two _had _together… it was like that of a fairytale."

"I know," I sighed.

"Well, if he doesn't come riding up on a white horse with a wedding ring soon, he is not worth your time."

"I agree," said Sam.

I snorted. I was still hanging on to the little shred of hope that Edward would ride up below my balcony on his horse, pleading for me to go back to him. If this situation came to be, I would outwardly show defiance towards him, when I knew that inside I would be begging for him to come and save me.

"I mean honestly," Alice said, "it doesn't take that long to get from London to Paris. Sure, going across the Channel is rough, but Napoleon did it, did he not?"

"Well, I'm just glad you're back, and safe," said Sam with an air of finality, for which I was grateful. "That was a wonderful story, Bella, really. You're so brave." She stood from the bed and placed her hand on my shoulder. "You will be a great leader someday. Whichever country gets you – whether it be France, England, or otherwise – they will be extremely fortunate."

I covered her hand with my own. "Thank you, Samantha," I said sincerely. It was good that they were not thinking of me differently for what I had done, not that I had thought they would, but it was still comforting.

Alice stood as well, I assume getting the message that I merely wanted rest. She kissed my cheeks and stroked my hair for a moment, and then both of my friends left the room.

The silence that now surrounded me seemed to be deafeningly loud, and I felt extremely vulnerable. Even as my eyelids drooped, protesting against the lack of sleep, I felt as if slumber would be impossible. I never felt this alone in England. Edward had always been with me in some form – in my head, in my heart, on my bed, in my arms.

I felt so alone.

To escape this, I decided to dress myself, wrap my hair up into a bun, and slip my feet into the pinching slippers I despised so. I wandered through the corridors aimlessly, my feet barely making a sound as I walked through the sleeping castle.

As I walked, I thought. I thought about everything that had happened so far. I thought about what I would say to Mother and Father once I saw them. I thought about Edward, and wondered if he would actually come or not.

When I got to the staircase, I lost all control of these thoughts. It was so early, and I knew no one would be coming this way.

And so I began crying on the staircase, begging Edward to come get me, but knowing he could not hear.

_"Romeo, sauve-moi."_

-

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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_**A/N: Last words, "Romeo, save me." And before that, "And I was crying on the staircase, begging you please don't go..." yeah. from the song.  
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**Sorry this took so long. Dance team tryouts.... I made it again! A sophomore. Awesome. I also keep getting distracted by this new Harry Potter fic I'm thinking about.... it's an Albus/OC ship. Yippie.**

**So. 12 pages of pure excitement.... not. It's really not that great of a chapter. It moves too fast.**

**But THIS IS ONLY PART ONE YALL. Another Bella's Point of View will come again next. She still has to talk to Renee and Charlie. And I've gotta fit Rosalie/Emmett and Alice/Jasper in there somewhere. Jacob should show his big ugly face sometime too (even though I'm Team Jacob). Actually, screw teams. I'm Pro-Potter.**

**Yes, Romeo and Juliet was around in 1810. Durrrrr. It was first published in like 1567 or something. Look on my page for pictures! and REVIEW. I want to get to 1000 eventually. MNWE got tehre faster, but I think 1810 is better....**

**Songs: Assassin - John Mayer; All Around Me - Flyleaf; Hold It Up - the Rocket Summer; Russian Roulette - Rihanna (not sure where that one came from but whatever...)**

**ENOUGH DRONING ABOUT POINTLESS CRAP. MY POINT = REVIEW OR DIE.**

**B/N: I've found 0 things wrong with this chapter except... IT ENDS LIKE THAT! Gawd, PLEASE send me the next part ASAP xD**

**I'm Team Jacob. And Team Seth. Team Edward people are just losers! (JK...sorta) xD**

**The songs we're singing for our Spring Concert are Fireflies (!!), I Want You Back/ABC by the Jackson 5, and The Climb by MCyrus (ugh... love the song, just not her!) Those are the songs my choir is singing; everyone is singing: I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas (opening song), I'll Be There by the Jackson 5, and Home Sweet Home by Carrie Underwood (finale). Also, since my choir is an 8th & 9th grade girls choir, the Freshmen have to sing We Are The World/25 for Haiti song with the all 9th grade choir... you've heard it right? If not, Youtube it!**

**Anyway... like Claire said. Either REVIEW or face a grueling DEATH by rusty spoons and loaded nerf guns full of cheese. Kay? Kay. **

**A/N: ...wow I love her.  
_REVIEW._  
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	21. Chapter Twenty One: II

**Sorry it's taken me so long......... but hey, IT'S SUMMERTIME(:**

**It starts out slow, but no worries -- our prince will come!**

**Enjoy :D  
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**1810 Chapter 21**

**BPOV**

After I had collected myself, I pushed myself off the staircase and headed down to the dining hall for some breakfast. The cooks always set baskets of fromage on the table in the morning, and I decided that the easiest way for me to face my family would be to act natural.

Well, maybe that was not the best plan I could have come up with, but some fromage sounded really appealing at the moment.

I walked into the familiar dining hall and looked at the massive wooden table. It seemed as though no time had passed at all – everything was precisely the same as it had been when I had left. Except one thing was different.

The curtains over the large window were drawn. They were never drawn before I left. I walked over to the window and threw the heavy red curtains apart, pushing them to the side. Sunlight rained into the room, reflecting off of the glossy oak table and the glimmering white china.

"Much better," I mused to myself, smiling. I turned my focus to the table, where there was a basket placed in the center. I reached in and grabbed the fromage, sitting down in my usual seat next to Father's chair at the head of the table. I was Father's girl through and through, and that would never change.

I took this silent time to ponder over how I was going to ease into the subject of my escape. Mother, no doubt, would completely "flip her lid," as some put it, and I was not looking forward to when that moment came.

The swinging door entrance from the kitchen swung open, and a cook by the name of Madame Francis bustled in, sporting a tray of eggs and toast. Her eyes were trained to her tray, so she would not drop it, but when she lifted her eyes and saw me, the effort was futile. With a gasp, she dropped the tray and ran back through the door.

I shrugged in response to this display. I told myself not to worry about it, since I rarely worried much about anything at all. I knew I should be a bit shaken by this, but I knew that what was to come from my immediate family would be much more dramatic than this. Madame Francis was merely a practice for what was ahead.

A few minutes later, Madame Francis returned.

"…I could have sworn it was the princess," she was saying to someone behind her.

She moved to the side of the doorframe to allow the other person entrance, and bent to pick up the fallen tray. A familiar man in a red suit entered and stared at me, blinking a few times.

"Princess Isabella?" he asked, cocking his handsome face to the side.

I grinned at the sight of him again. "Perenelle!" I exclaimed elatedly, rushing out of my chair to greet him.

He had his hand held out for the standard handshake, though he should know by this point that I was way past the standards. Throwing my arms around the servant, I thought of my relationship with him. I was not particularly close to Perenelle, but I was just so ecstatic to see familiar faces once again that I did not mind. There had been something brewing between Sam and Perenelle for a while now, and I wondered if they had finally talked it out during my absence.

Sam would have told me, though, would she not have? Or was she so caught up in my story about Edward that it slipped her mind? I decided to push the thought from my mind for the moment. I didn't want to think about Edward again just yet, I merely wanted to enjoy being home as of now.

I let go of Perenelle and stepped back to find him smiling down at me.

"What have you been getting up to, Princess?" he asked me.

"Oh, the usual," I replied, beaming innocently.

He laughed. "If that means getting into trouble, then I do not doubt it."

Madame Francis straightened up, the tray resting lightly on her hip. Her mousy brown curls framed her slightly wrinkled face, and she gazed at me in awe.

"Princess Isabella," she said, "you have returned."

Thank you, Madame Francis, for stating a fact I did not know.

"This calls for a feast," she continued excitedly. Before I could protest, Madame Francis was out the door and back into the kitchens, no doubt preparing for one of the largest meals I had ever witnessed.

Perenelle eyed me before asking, "Does Samantha know you have returned?"

I tried to hide my suspicion of his question before answering. "Yes," I said warily. "She was one of the first to know. Why do you ask?"

If he was uncomfortable by my probing, he did not show it. "She has been worried sick about you, you know. Mary Alice, as well."

"Yes," I said. "I know. And – forgive my asking – but, have you and Samantha _talked_ any while I was gone?"

I did not fail to notice the pink tinge of his cheeks as he replied positively. I smiled, keeping in mind that I would have to press Sam for the story later on in the day.

"Where have you been all this time?" Perenelle asked. "After the wedding, and so on?"

I sighed. "It is a long story, Perenelle, and I hope you will be patient with me until another time." I planned to tell all the servants all at once what had happened to me, to save their troubles and curiosity. But that was for later. Facing Mother, Father and Emmett would be the difficult part for me.

Emmett was still gone for that hunting excursion in Canterbury, so I would tell him when he returned. But did my brother even know that I had been gone? Did the men hunting with him have access to the outside world? I supposed I would find out later.

After Perenelle left, I continued to eat at the table. Madame Francis had brought in more eggs and toast, so I busied myself with those while waiting for my parents.

As I waited, I tried to imagine how they would react. Would they be mad, or more relieved? And as I thought, they entered the kitchen together.

My heart lurched when I saw them, especially Father, whom I had not seen in over a month. I felt my throat clog up and I coughed to clear it.

Mother and Father were already dressed, like I was. We never came out of our bedrooms in our night coats. Mother was dressed in a silken soft pink dress while Father sported his usual blue overcoat; they were clearly expecting just another day of worrying.

By the look on their faces when they walked in, I could tell they had been worrying quite a bit. Both of them had deep purple insets under their eyes, their skin was stretched smartly over their cheekbones. They looked absolutely terrible, and it pained me to know it was my fault.

When they saw me, they both stopped their walk into the room, still as stone. Upon one glace at me, Mother's bright blue eyes glistened for a moment before she rushed over, dropping onto her knees in front of my chair.

"Oh, _Isabella_," Mother moaned, immediately sprinkling kisses on my face. Normally, I would shove her off for kissing me – even though I was a princess, I was still a teenager – but I was so happy to see her face again that I did not care. Tears rolled down her face and onto her dress, and it was not until I felt the moisture rolling down my cheek did I realize I was crying as well.

"Mother," I choked out.

"Oh, I have missed you so," she said, keeping me enveloped in a hug. I breathed in the scent of her so close – she smelled just as she always had, like cinnamon, and the smell comforted me. Maybe telling them would not be as difficult as I thought it would be.

"Me, too, Mother," I said, my voice coming out in a whisper due to the fact that I had little air supply. "Me, too."

Over Mother's shoulder, I could see Father, still standing in the exact same spot with a look of shock plastered on his face. One would assume that, as the king, my father would react quickly, but no. King Charlie was never a man of many words. I knew not to expect much fretting from him – he was a very awkward person. Despite that, I knew Father was an excellent ruler for that reason. He always took time to think ahead instead of reacting immediately, and I could only imagine what was running through his head at that moment.

I attempted to stand, a difficult feat with Mother hanging on to my neck. When she hesitantly let go, I walked over to Father and enveloped him in a hug. He uncomfortably wrapped his arms around me in return, and I was thankful for this move. We remained embraced for several moments while Mother's sniffles and sobs played out beside us.

"I am so glad," Charlie began to say, but then he cut himself off. "You have no idea how delighted I am to have you home again." He smiled down at me, the crinkles fanning out around his eyes. I grinned. It felt so good to be home again, with my family. All that was missing was Emmett, and Edward…

Stop. Bad. I would enough time to think about Edward soon, probably sooner than I wanted.

"I'm glad to be back in France," I said to my parents. I disengaged myself from Father and meandered back to my chair. I sat down, and Mother and Father did the same in their respective chairs. My appetite was gone, so I picked up a roll and began picking it apart to occupy myself.

"Four days ago," Father said, buttering his own roll, "Your Mother received a letter from King Black of Belgium."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the name. _Black_. Eurrgh.

"The letter expressed how disappointed the Blacks were after your departure, and –"

"Disappointed?" I interrupted. "Rebecca and Rachel were probably having a ball –"

"That is not my point, Isabella," Father said sternly. "My point is that you –"

"The point is _what_ the_ hell _were you thinking and_ where_ the_ hell _have you been?" Mother shrieked.

I was taken aback by Renee's outburst. I had never heard her swear at me before, though I had heard her profanities aimed at Emmett. It was highly disconcerting to hear it directed at me.

"Now Renee," Father said soothingly, "Let us consider this rationally –"

"_Rationally_?" Mother repeated angrily. "Isabella certainly did not consider things _rationally_ when she ran away from her dream –"

Dream? Excuse me? "What _dream_, Mother?" I demanded.

"You do wish to be queen, do you not?"

"Yes, but not queen of _Belgium_, I –"

"What is the issue with Belgium?"

"I do not think I can –"

"Prince Jacob graciously offered you his hand in marriage and you denied him! You should be quite ashamed of how you –"

"I didn't handle anything the wrong way, I did what I –"

"Now, let us all just settle down and talk about –" Father tried to say, but Mother and I ignored him.

"Isabella, it has been your dream to be married to a prince and rule along beside him!"

"No Mother," I said, "that is _your_ dream."

"Why, should you ever talk to me like –"

"I want to marry someone I _love_, Mother!"

"There is no such thing as love!" she yelled.

I was taken aback by this comment. No such thing as love? "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice hard.

"No," Mother tried to backtrack, "That is not what I meant, Isabella, you know I –"

"Are you saying you haven't loved Father this whole time? You haven't loved me, or Emmett?"

Mother looked pleadingly at Charlie. "I love your father very much –"

"But not really?"

"That is not what I am trying to say, Isabella!"

"Then what _are_ you trying to say?"

"This isn't about me!" Mother shouted. "This is about your future, and how –"

"Jacob hit me, Mother!" I screamed, cutting off whatever she was going to say. Mother immediately stopped speaking, and Father made a chocking sound in the back of this throat.

"What did you just say?" he asked me.

"Jacob punched me, the day we were to be married."

"Well," Mother said, sinking back down into her chair. I had not realized how intense our row had been – we were both on our feet, and I could have sworn I saw Madame Francis and Perenelle's heads sticking though the kitchen door. I assumed our volume had attracted many curious inhabitants, as I was sure the castle had been nearly silent throughout my absence.

"Well," she said again, "this changes things."

I nodded curtly. I knew the time was drawing nearer to explain what happened. I mentally prepared myself as Father asked the dreaded question.

"Bella," he said. He was one of the few in this castle who would actually call me by my preferred name. "Would you like to elucidate to us what happened after you ran away?"

And so I explained myself for the second time that day. I preferred telling it to Sam and Alice – they had given me more positive feedback than my parents. Mother and Father did not interrupt me, they merely listened with stoic expressions.

Before I was even halfway done, I was in tears. Discussing Edward Masen with my parents made me miss him so much more. I decided to edit a bit for Mother and Father, leaving out the romance. I made it sound like Edward and I were just very close friends.

It pained me how I had to change the story for them, though. Did that mean I was ashamed of my relationship with Edward? I told myself the answer to that question was no. I would only get myself into more trouble if I told them. Besides, Edward had told me not to tell anyone.

I was quite sure Mother was still supporting me with Jacob, even after I told her what had happened, but I would never go back to him. I loved Edward. I really _loved_ him.

And I would do anything to have him with me again.

"…And now, here I am," I finished lamely. I could not tell if Renee was angry or saddened.

"And you survived all that?" Father said in a somewhat awestruck tone. He whistled slowly, and then smiled. "That's my girl." He stood from his chair at the table and hugged me, walking out of the dining hall.

I was happy Father accepted all this with little effort. I was confident that Father, at least, was on my side. He clearly was not angry at me; however, he was livid with Jacob. I could tell after I finished that part of my tale by the stony set of his jaw.

"I will admit that I am impressed. However, I do still wish you would apologise to Prince Jacob."

"Apologise? He should be apologizing to me." I snorted in an unladylike fashion.

Mother shot me a disapproving look. "What did I tell you about snorting, young lady?"

"Sorry," I mumbled.

She rose from her chair and kissed my hair lightly. "I am glad you are home safely, Isabella," she said. "However, I am disappointed that you did not behave yourself while in Brussels."

"Ah," I said. I knew there was a catch.

"Please retreat to your room until I send for you."

"Yes, Mother."

As I left the dining hall to my bedroom, I thought about how well that went. I was in a small spot of trouble, I knew, but no where near as bad as I had expected.

When I reached my room, I closed the door and flung myself face down onto my newly-made bed. What to do now? I could think of nothing except think of Edward. With a groan, I rolled onto my back and stared at my ceiling, closing my eyes and wishing all the problems away.

I woke when I felt a cool breeze play into my room through the open balcony doors. Chilled, I donned a thin white sweater and stepped outside onto the tile, barefoot, as always.

I wandered to the railing and rested my forearms against it, feeling the wind fan tendrils of hair across my face.

I stared out into the setting sun, thinking of how beautiful the castle really was. My balcony faced out to the front part of the castle, just over the large main entrance. The long pebble drive stretched out so far that the end of it blended with the pinks and oranges of the sunset. In the distance, black dots flew around the sky, and the tall green trees swayed lightly in the breeze. A white shape was slowly materializing along the center of the drive, a horse.

_Maybe it's Edward_, I joked to myself. Rolling my eyes with a sigh, I wandered back into the bedroom. What did I want to do now?

After wandering around doing nothing for a while, I settled on writing a letter to Edward, thanking him and his mother for allowing me to stay. I pulled out the parchment and dipped my quill in the ink, writing _Edward_ neatly at the top.

_I would like to say that I_ – I paused there to dip my quill in the ink again. When I lifted my quill out of the pot, there was barely any ink on it at all.

"Stupid ink," I grumbled to myself. I lifted the pot up to my eye, trying to see how much of the thick liquid remained inside.

_Smack!_ A sound from outside nearly made me drop the ink all over myself. Dismissing it as nothing, I continued my inspection of the ink pot.

_Smack!_ The sound came again, louder, and my hand jolted. The small amount of ink inside the pot spilled over onto Edward's half-written letter.

"Damn," I cursed, attempting to clean it up with the ink rag. The spilled ink just smeared on the letter even more, and the _Smack!_ sound came onto my balcony once again.

"WHAT?" I yelled, billowing over to my open balcony.

The first thing I noticed was three pebbles on the tile. I walked to the railing and nearly fell over the top from what I saw. A white horse was placed right below my balcony, and beside it was –

"_Edward_!" I exclaimed. Edward was here! Throwing rocks at my balcony! Edward Masen! Prince Edward Masen! Throwing rocks! Edward! My stomach felt like it was waltzing around with my heart inside of me.

All coherent thought was caught in the breeze and flew off into the setting sun. Edward's smile was brighter than the sun was, anyway.

He ran to the base of the castle and used the cracks in the white center blocks to climb up to my balcony. Next thing I knew, he had his legs swung around the railing and I was wrapped up in his arms, breathing in his scent.

"Edward," I said again, relaxing in the perfect way I fit into his embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," he said, his warm breath fanning out my hair. "I love you, Bella." I smiled into his shoulder.

I liked how he said "I love you." It was so simple, so solidly factual as though no force in the world could change that. We stood in our embrace for a moment, merely enjoying one another's company, before I spoke.

"Edward, you have to help me," I said after a pause. "They're trying to tell what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to feel. And I'm scared."

He sighed and squeezed his arms that were around my waist, binding me to him tightly, as if he were afraid I would run away as soon as possible. The thought made me laugh a little – as if I could ever leave him.

"This love is difficult," Edward said slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully.

"But it's real."

"Yes," he agreed. "Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess."

"Promise?"

Though I could not see his face, I knew that he was grinning. "I promise."

"I've missed you," I told him, burying my face into his neck. "I've been feeling so alone this whole time without you here."

"Me, too," he said. And, so quietly I almost didn't hear him, he said, "You have no idea."

I reluctantly pulled away from him then. "But you'll have to go sometime," I said sadly. "No one knows about… us." I hesitated on the last word. Would he get mad that I mentioned it?

He ran his hand though his copper hair. "I am sorry. I realized on my way here that I was a fool for telling you not to tell anyone. We needed things to settle down, but I'm not sure if I'm that strong anymore."

I looked at him quizzically, but he just laughed. "Don't you see, Bella? _I'm in love with you_! Completely, wholly, irretrievably in love with you. Before you came, I was so… boring. I never bothered to, well, 'color outside the lines,' as some say. And now, it's like a burst of colors. Reds and greens and blues and oranges… a whole new spectrum of colors. As I watched Eric lead you away yesterday, I felt as though half of my heart was being taken away. I _love_ you. So much."

When I opened my mouth to speak, I found nothing could come out. So instead of speaking, I bit my lip and watched as Edward knelt down on one knee and rummaged around in his pocket. He pulled out a blue velvet box and opened it, revealing a sparkling silver ring.

I gasped – the light of the sunset sparkled off the diamond ring, but that was nothing compared to the emerald that was Edward's eyes. He took a deep breath. "Isabella Marie Swan, Princess of France – will you marry me?"

I couldn't speak. All I could do was nod my head, again and again. Edward got to his feet and slid the ring on my finger, and I threw my arms around his neck.

"I love you!" I nearly shouted at him. "I love you, I love you, I love you! So much!" And, without any hesitation whatsoever, I smashed my lips against his.

When we broke apart, Edward picked me up and swung me around. I threw my head back and laughed, caught in a moment of pure bliss. He set me down on me feet, and leaned his forehead against mine.

"Marry me, Bella, and you'll never have to be alone. I promise. I love you, and that's really all I know anymore." Edward kissed my forehead tenderly, and I felt my eyelids slide shut. "Oh, and I spoke with King Charlie."

My eyes snapped open. "You _what_?"

"It was a long, complicated conversation. Your father can be very intimidating."

I would have laughed, but I was still in shock over the fact that Father and Edward had actually _met._ "What did he say?" I demanded to know.

Edward beamed, a smile that stretched all the way across his face. "Go pick out a white dress. It's a love story, Bella, just say yes."

I didn't bother saying yes. Instead, I backed Edward against the railing of the balcony and kissed him until the sun went down.

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: Notice all the Love Story (Taylor Swift) lyrics? Ha.  
**

**_This is NOT the end._ I may do a wedding scene, but I'm actually thinking next chapter will be the epilogue. As much as I love fanfiction, I think I'm a bit over my head, and I'm just ready to be done with this story. ****I might write another chapter about the Charlie/Edward convo... I dunno.**

**So, I hope you all have an excellent summer... maybe review me about your plans?  
Or, you know, reviewing about the story works too..... Questions? Comments? Concerns?**

**Songs: Aerial Pomenade - Seagull Orchestra; An Enchanted Evening - Port Blue; Madeline - The Right Coast**

**B/N: As much as I despise Edward/RPattz with EVERY fiber of my being... this was so cute! :)**

**Love, love, love it! I have two more school days before I'm out for the summer! I got an Outstanding award at my choir concert :D**

**Um... I learned how to do the bridge thing when you shuffle cards?**

**I loved this so much! While I was reading it, I was listening to "I'll Be There" by the Jackson 5. :)**

**Claire, you are talented and I love you, and I REALLY want a wedding scene. Purty please with a big fat cherry on top and Taylor Lautner?**

**I have a feeling your readers will aim nerf guns at your head if you don't. xD**

**Love you sooo much!**

**A/N: I HEART LEAH!(:  
**

**Four days for me, but I'm not going the last day sooo.... Three more days of being a freshman! I'm so depressed, I've LOVED freshman year!**

**HAVE A GOOD SUMMER YALL!  
And if yall review, I may make it better with a wedding scene?  
**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**hey people CALM DOWN on the hate, kay? the last chapter was SUPPOSED to be cheesy. That was the point. It was kinda FUNNY. Understand the concept? OKAY.**

**yeah so anyway, this chapter's short, and it's got Charlie and the wedding and such sooo... enjoy! And I'm writing the epilogue RIGHT NOW man yall are gonna love it(:  
**

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1810 Chapter 22**

**EPOV**

It had been nearly a week since I proposed to Bella. It was quite difficult to keep track of the time here, what with all the goings-on at the French castle. With dealing with the press, begging for details of Bella's return, Prince Emmett's homecoming, and wedding preparations, things were beginning to get really out of hand. It was not helpful that Elizabeth had rode down to Paris to assist Queen Renee with plans.

At first, Queen Renee had not approved of me. I tried as hard as I possibly could to be charming and perfect, but the queen had not been swayed. Bella explained to me later that Queen Renee still longed for Bella to marry Prince Jacob Black. I was quite positive I growled after I was told this information. How was I, Prince Edward Anthony Masen, put in a place behind _that_ mongrel?

At any rate, once Elizabeth turned up, Queen Renee's attitude towards me changed completely. I was not positive if it was something Elizabeth said, or if my charm finally wore off on her, but either way it worked out in my favor. The two women were absolutely ecstatic about the whole wedding ordeal, and it appeared as though they were quite fond of one another.

As for Bella and I, we had not been able to see each other often during the day. Bella was always being dragged away to add her say in something as trivial as napkin colors or tablecloth fabrics. I could tell Bella was not happy about this; she was not the type to be concerned of small things as such. However, it was quite amusing to watch her stop into her room grumbling about the difference between pale pink and peach.

She would march over to where I was waiting on her bed, grimace at me for a moment, then launch herself at me, our lips meeting before we even hit the bed. Then, hours later, I would shamble back to the guest bedroom and wait for the following day to arrive. Sometimes, while I lay in the Swan's large guest bed, I would think about the wedding, and what is going to happen after. Other times, I think back on my conversation with King Charlie, and that is what I did this night, the night before the wedding.

_I knocked as quietly as I could on the door, and tried to straighten my shoulders and look assertive. When no one answered the door, I knocked again, loudly and confidently. There was a pause, and I was face-to-face with King Charlie Swan. His blue eyes ran down the length on my waistcoat to my boots, and back up again. I kept my back straight, though the assessment made me want to run away screaming._

_This was for Bella. I loved Bella. I was talking to her father about my love for Bella. Her father. The king. _

_Bollocks._

"_What do you want, boy?" King Charlie gruffed out, still eying me. His prompt question put me on the spot, and I was not prepared. I felt a sliver of my confidence slip away._

"_I was wondering if I could speak to you in your office, sir," I said, nodding into the room. King Charlie assessed me once more, then he stepped back and walked back to his desk. I followed him into the room, closing the door behind me and sitting down in a green winged-back chair._

"_What is your business here?" the king asked me._

"_My name is Edward Masen, Prince of England."_

"_Yes, I know."_

_I felt my brow crease in confusion._

"_Isabella, my daughter, has told me a great deal about you," King Charlie said unsmilingly. _

_I liked to think of myself as a very open-minded person, but right now I was quite intimidated by Bella's father. I felt like a common boy taking another common girl out, not a prince speaking to a king. But was that a good thing? Did that mean I was more comfortable than I should be? It did not feel like it. I felt as though I was going to urinate myself. Honestly._

"_Has she?" I said, resisting the urge to run my hand unprofessionally through my hair. Where has all my training gone? Was I not raised to be able to handle this kind of pressure?_

_King Charlie nodded. "Yes. And I would like to thank you for assisting her while a bout of insanity overcame her."_

_Bout of insanity? I nearly laughed aloud, but King Charlie continued before I could. "She is not typically the type to flee from her duty. However, under the circumstances, I was quite glad she escaped before it was too late."_

_The circumstances: when Jacob hit her. I felt anger seethe in my stomach and I had to swallow it down. "Yes," I said. "I am equally grateful she managed to run while she could. I am also grateful that she was able to stay in London."_

_The king's forehead folded. I took a deep breath. _

"_Do you believe in fate, King Charlie?"_

_He spluttered for a moment. I clearly caught him off guard. "I – well, I think that –" _

_I allowed him to stutter until he ran out of steam. I knew better than to interrupt a king. "Sir, allow me to explain," I said. "Two weeks ago, I did not believe in fate, either. When a stubborn, disheveled woman bumped into my horse I did not know she was the Princess of France. I did not know she would become someone who would change my life forever. I did not know she would become the first person I ever allowed myself to love._

"_At first, the more time I spent with your daughter, sir, the more I loathed her. I thought she was a commoner with exceptional personality, and I kept pondering how she had enough confidence to wander in to my palace with a pompous smirk." I paused to laugh, not looking at King Charlie's expression. "My mother, Queen Elizabeth, absolutely doted on Bella. I continued to hate her, but I kept noticing more and more things about her that I couldn't stop thinking about._

"_So one night, I got her drunk. I knew she was hiding something, and I had to know what it was. I thought she was a spy. But then I found out she was the Princess of France, and everything changed – I was shocked, angry, and it made getting her out of my head even more difficult than it was before. Something kept pulling me to her. I should have kicked Bella out of London that first night, but I couldn't. I shouldn't have let her stay. But I did. And somewhere along those lines, hate turned into love. _

"_I love everything about her – the way her hair shines red in the sunlight, the way I get lost in her eyes, the way her smile lights up a room. I love how she sets her own trends, I love how just by being herself she has so many people love her. I love how she disregards the rules, I love how she always made me laugh when no one else could. I love your daughter, sir," I stated, looking King Charlie square in the eye, "and I would like to have your approval to ask for her hand in marriage."_

_If King Charlie was shocked, he masked it skillfully. "Well," he said, "I'd rather it be you than Black." He began to rise from his chair._

"_That's it?" I said in disbelief, staring at the man._

_He looked at me oddly for a moment before he chuckled. "It is quite clear to me that you are head over heels in love with Isabella. If you can care for her and keep her in line, go on right ahead. But if you ever do one thing to hurt her, I will _not_ hesitate to hurt you. Understand?"_

_I nodded, smiling. I would have jumped around and hugged him right there in his office, but I knew better. I stood and shook King Charlie's hand._

"_Thank you so much, sir," I said. "I promise to take care of her and provide her with everything she could possibly want. I promise to love her until I die, and even longer than that. Thank you."_

_King Charlie grinned at me, the crinkles around his eyes fanning out. I felt kind of awkward, because I was still very intimidated and out of my element. But I beamed in return and turned to leave the office, breathing out a sigh of relief. Thank God _that_ was over._

_I thought about the next thing on my agenda – propose to Bella. I swallowed, feeling just as nervous, if not more so, as I did when talking to King Charlie._

_Bollocks._

I smiled to myself in the bed, staring at the ceiling. I was so nervous then, but I shouldn't have been. I never doubted Bella's returning love for me; I knew she would say yes. And now here I was, the night before the wedding. Everyone who was anyone would be there, but that didn't matter to me. All I cared about was that Bella would finally be mine for everyone to see, always and forever.

I stood at the altar in gardens, my heart pounding in my chest. The orchestra struck up a slow ballad (the conductor Richard Wagner called it "Here Comes the Bride," but it didn't matter because I was quite positive this dreadful song would never become famous) and the congregation stood up. Queen Renee and Elizabeth were in the front row crying, my father sitting beside them. Prince Emmett, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, was sitting next to a smoky-eyed blonde. I wondered vaguely who she was, before I realized I didn't really care.

King Charlie came out from behind the curtain first, tugging a little bit on the hand connected to his. A second later, Bella came out next to him, adjusting her grip on her father and looping her arm through his. She set her doe brown eyes on mine and smiled.

I think my heart stopped beating.

Her white dress was strapless, quite scandalous for this time, but Bella pulled it off. The bodice had satin flowers on it with a bow, and the rest of the dress flowed down in layers. The train of the dress dragged across the floor and gave Bella the impression that she was floating. Her brown hair was billowing down her back in loose curls, bouncing with every step she took.

The congregation sighed as one as Bella stepped closer and closer to where I was standing. I didn't want to wait. I wanted to run to her and snatch her up in my arms and carry her away. But I stopped myself before I could do anything rash, and Bella slowly took her last few steps to the platform where I was waiting with the priest.

I didn't listen to a word the priest said. I stared into Bella's eyes hungrily, drinking all of her in. She was beautiful. What could I have ever done without her for eighteen years?

The only thing I was aware of was saying my vows, and I saw Bella's perfect pink lips saying hers afterward. After that, I slid the diamond ring onto Bella's dainty fingers and she slid a golden band onto mine.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest said.

Grinning, I brought Bella's face close to mine. I paused right before our lips touched to whisper, "I love you, Princess Isabella Swan Masen." And then, ignoring the crowd of people watching, I slid my lips onto hers.

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1  
_

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**A/N: Shall I give you a moment to squeal? Was it squeal-worthy? I don't really know, I haven't been to a wedding since I was about six and I'm fifteen now soo... **

**yeah. epilouge next. I'm writing it RIGHT NOW, it just depends on how long it takes Leah to get it! I hope yall are having a good summer, because I sure am! We got first place at a dance team competition, and I've been spending a LOT of time with dishy Chris(:**

**BELLA'S WEDDING DRESS: LOOK FOR THE LINK ON MY PAGE. It was like the first one I saw and I was like, eh, it'll do. So there it is.**

**Songs: Cute - Stephen Jerzak; Slow Dancing In A Burning Room - John Mayer; Paralyzer - Finger Eleven; Howl - Florence + The Machine**

**B/N: Okay, you can feel free to yell at me. I've been on the computer, but I've been preoccupied with an online game. x] I loved this chapter so much! I hope you guys do too! :D**

**_REVIEW _or I will not hesitate to push you off Big Ben.  
**


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Two at once. Yeeeeeeeeeee! But ONLY because the last chapter was so short.  
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**P.S. - don't hate me? thanks!  
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1810 Epilogue**

**BPOV**

The year was 1815. I was now twenty-three years old, Queen Isabella Masen, with two little princes and one little princess to take care of.

The day was the fifth of August. I lived in the British castle in London, England, but I still cared about France. Napoleon Bonaparte fought his last battle at Waterloo forty-eight days ago.

It had been a year and fourteen days since Edward left. It is his duty as king to fight in the war. The war began in 1812 – I was surprised it took so long to call him in. I guess with Napoleon posing such a threat to Britain, Edward was quite bogged down. Even with his father helping, a twenty-three year old should not be under so much stress. I admired how happy and carefree Edward could be with me and the kids while under that much pressure.

Elizabeth and Renee both adored the kids. Bradley, the oldest, was four. William was three. And my daughter, Lillian, was the youngest at one year and two months. I was quite glad that Elizabeth and Renee were such close friends, and Edward and Charlie as well. Charlie hated the Blacks. Every once in a while, I contemplate how different my life would be if I married Jacob. We were acquaintances now, and he married a severe-looking woman named Katherine.

Jacob's servants and my close friends, Leah and Seth, were now settled and happy as well. Leah got lucky and fell in love with a Duke, and put her days as a servant behind her. I see her at various parties every now and then. As for Seth, he moved back to America and met a woman named Daisy. From what I've heard, they're doing quite well together.

Mary Alice met one of the implant servants at the castle named Jasper Whitlock, a chef from America. She is crazy in love, and they're planning to get married once Jasper's contract is void, in a year, so they can support themselves away from the castle.

Samantha and Perenelle were wed two months after Edward and I were. Mother and Father cut them a little slack and provided them a nice room in the castle and more working leverage.

My brother Emmett was now the King of France with Queen Rosalie Hale Swan at his side. They were perfect for one another.

Happy endings. They were everywhere.

The happy endings stopped on the fourth of August – yesterday. The letter came. The letter that stopped _my_ world. The letter that stopped _the_ world.

The letter that told me Edward had been killed in the war.

I didn't think after that, but I knew what I had to do. I knew there was only one thing I could do.

I wrote my will. I left the kids with Elizabeth and Renee. I told Edward, Charlie, and Emmett to raise Bradley and William as the kings they would someday be. I told Elizabeth and Renee to help Lillian with anything she might need.

Then I got a carriage to take me to the rockiest part of the country. I thanked the coach driver and told him to leave. I took off my heavy dress and shoes, so I stood on the plain overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in my petticoat, barefoot. I let my hair down, allowing it to be carried to the side by the frosty wind.

I knew what I was getting myself into.

I stepped closer to the tall ledge, looking down. The frosty water lapped at the sharp rocks below, foaming where it crashed against the tall ledge. It was about an eighty foot drop to the ocean – this was the highest cliff in the country. If one was crazy enough to jump off, there was no possible way they could live; which was exactly I stepped forward to curl my toes around the rocky ledge.

I closed my eyes, feeling the air whip my hair around my face. I could practically feel Edward's warm arms around me, comforting me.

"I'll see you soon, Edward. I love you," were my whispered last words. Then I threw my arms out, launched myself off the cliff, and I prepared to face the cold waters below.

_Beta'd by BubblyAmericanWriter1_

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**A/N: yeeeeep. that's the end. wasn't as descriptive as I would have likes  
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**Edward gets killed in war, and Bella kills herself. Oh yeah, and sorry to all those Renesmee fans (is that how you spell it?). This story follows none of the books.**

**SOOOO I hope yall enjoyed reading _1810_! THERE WILL BE AN ALTERNATE EPILOGUE, a happy one. I like happy endings, too, you know.  
**

**I probably won't be doing any more Twilight fanfiction anytime soon. I'll need to finish up _Thirteen Reasons Why_ (I forgot about that...) and I'll add on to _Playing Favorites_ every now and then so be on the lookout for that! I've been thinking a lot about starting a new Harry Potter fic, though. Maybe a Next Generation Albus/OC? Or maybe a fun Harry/Ginny? Both stocked with humor, of course. I couldn't really be very funny with _1810._**

**So, there's a few people I'd like to thank! _BubblyAmericanWriter1_, of course, for being awesome! You have been the best Beta and friend ANYONE could EVER ask for! Your friends are so lucky to have you(:_  
Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike_, for always saying thanks,_ I Smile When It Rains_, for that awesome review that made me really happy, _Shattered Insecurities_ for being the first review (besides Leah),_ weatherwitch.X.x.X., Thunder's Blade, AmatuerAuthor, peruvianBella, Popcornzoe, LoveThoseVampires, ASHLEYYYBLACKBERRYYY_, and everyone else that stuck me through all the long months of not updating, and my best friend Catherine Rose for begging to read this but not going to find it because I told her not to (hahah)! Thanks SO much yall, every review has meant so much to me!**

**Songs: Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance  
Fall For You - Secondhand Serenade  
The Town's Been Talkin - the Maine (I saw them in concert!)  
Helena - My Chemical Romance**

**B/N: *huff huff* *sigh* *growl***

**I have nothing to say. And you're welcome, I enjoy being your Beta very much, although this chapter I want to go crawl in a hole and die.**

**A/N: Hope yall liked it, I'm already working on a Harry/Ginny fic for all you amazing Harry Potter fans (no slash like every other HP fic on this site) and I hope yall review your pants off! I love yall so much!(: **

**Have an amazinggggg summer (or winter, whichever part of the world you're in), and review please :))))))))))))))))))))))))  
**


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Okay, since the last epilogue got some much negative feedback I decided to write an alternate. This one's happier.**

**WAY happier.  
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"Good morning, Lillian," I greeted my youngest daughter as she came marching into the dining hall.

She grunted in response. Lillian was never one for mornings.

"Princesses do not grunt," I told her politely, delicately cutting up some sausage.

Lillian put on a brilliant smile. She had my smile. "Good morning, Mother," she said sweetly. She then wiped the smile off her face and reached for the fromage. I bit my lip to keep from laughing: I had a reputation to uphold, you see. My kids didn't have to know I secretly laughed at everything they did behind their backs.

Lillian reminded me so much of myself when I was her age. Lillian, my only daughter and youngest child, had just recently turned fourteen. William was my second child, and he was sixteen, while Bradley was my first born and now seventeen years of age.

Whenever I thought about my kids I thought about how old _I _was. Ugh. However, at thirty-eight, I must say I was still quite the looker and an amazing queen. The people of England loved me almost as much as the French did – but there was a bit of a rough patch right after Edward and I got married.

The English people had this crazy idea that I was using Edward to bring England down so France could rise to power. Now, really, would I ever do that? No. It had never even crossed my mind. Besides, at that point, the French had Napoleon. I hated Napoleon. I hated war and freakishly short people. So England had nothing to fear from me and I quickly wormed my way into their hearts.

I was just remarkable like that.

Since I moved to Britain with Edward to rule, Emmett immediately took control of the throne in France, with his wife Rosalie by his side. They seemed to be in love, I suppose, and I grew to like her after all those boring-to-tears dinner parties and balls.

Edward and I often skip out on aforementioned dinner parties and balls. We have, er, _other_ things we'd rather take care of at nighttime that parties certainly don't allow.

Samantha and Perenelle were married four months after Edward and I were, and they still live at the French palace. Mother and Father provided them with a large room and serving leverages. They are quite happy, and don't plan of leaving the castle any time soon.

Mary Alice met an American servant named Jasper Whitlock, who came to work at the castle as a chef, and they were married two years after Edward and I. They live in a small cottage just outside Paris, and Jasper owns his own restaurant. _La Gare_, I think it's called? From what I hear, it is getting very popular.

Leah met a British Duke named Joe McClintock and they were wed a year after Alice and Jasper. Joe was quite the character, I have to say. Now that Leah didn't have to work for her money, she attended many of the same dinner parties and balls I did. She lives right off the edge of the London market in a big manor, and we visit one another often. I think I can see a little romance between my son William and her daughter Jessica.

Leah's brother, Seth, fell in love with a pheasant girl named Lizzie. Lizzie was lovely, but somewhat plain. That was fine with me, though. We've had them over for dinner many times before.

"Lillian, your tutors are upstairs," I told my daughter.

She gave me look that clearly stated she did not wish to go. I returned it with a look that clearly stated she had to or so-help-me. With a sigh, she crammed the rest of the fromage into her mouth and walked off, her curly brown hair bouncing along in her wake.

"Oh, and Lillian, dear," I called out. She turned, and I smiled. "Please wear shoes for your tutors today. I know you didn't last week."

Lillian blushed and headed up the stairs. That left me sitting in the dining hall alone, pondering where the boys had gotten off to (they were just here!) and what Edward might be doing.

Just as I thought this, two sets of pounding footsteps came crashing into the room, and my two sons appeared, red-faced and out of breath.

"Boys, what have I told you about running in the castle?" I scolded, trying to hide my smile. _Why_ couldn't God have graced me with quiet, rule-abiding kids like Edward was? Why did they all have to have my personality?

"Sorry, Mother, it's just Bradley took my –"

" –What are you talk about, it was mine!"

"Was not!"

"William, Aunt Rosalie bought that for _me_! If you weren't such a prat I might share it with you – "

"Bradley!" I interrupted. "Watch your language!"

Bradley mumbled an apology, running a hand through his bronze curls. He looked exactly like Edward, except he had my nose. Cool.

"Now, what are you two bickering about?"

"William took my new gold pocket watch!" Bradley whined. Honestly. They acted like two-year-olds most of the time.

"I wanted it for the ball tonight!" William retaliated. "It matches my ensemble better –"

"William!" a male voice boomed from behind me. I didn't have to turn to know it was Edward using his King Voice. Even since the boys were born he's loved using that tone. It was just another thing we laughed about together when the kids weren't watching. "Give your brother his watch back. You can wear mine."

William shrugged and pulled a golden chain out of his pantaloons. He dropped it in Bradley's palm and they both walked away.

I looked at Edward and shook my head, sighing. "Those two," I said in exasperation.

Edward chuckled and he stepped forward to snake his hands around my waist.

"What do you say – skip the ball tonight?" he said, grinning.

I felt a coy smile play upon my lips. "I don't know… I know King Jacob will be there tonight and I was somewhat hoping that I –"

With a growl, Edward's lips came crashing down upon mine. I sunk into the kiss, sighing happily.

When Edward broke the kiss, he said, "Don't _ever _mention him in this castle. I've had you for twenty-eight years; no way in hell is Black going to change that." He kissed me again.

I broke it this time, laughing and slapping him playfully on his stomach, feeling the muscles tighten at the contact. "You're cute when you're jealous," I told him, smirking. I smoothly wormed my way out of his grasp and headed for the staircase, making sure to swing my hips a little bit.

Get some, thirty-eight-year-old-Bella!

I really made myself laugh sometimes.

When I reached the top of the staircase, I looked down at Edward, who was staring at me. "Well," I said brazenly, "are you coming or not?"

Edward walked up the stairs to where I was waiting.

"The kids can take the carriage – they know what to do," I continued once my husband had reached my side.

"So we _are_ skipping the ball, then?" he confirmed.

In reply, I put his face in my hands and brought it down to meet mine. "I wouldn't have it any other way," I said, smiling. Then I kissed him soundly, and things just carried on from there.

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**A/N: I'm sorry about the last epilogue. Fanfiction readers like happy endings, and both the main characters died... and if I did really want them to die, I should have written it better. I apologize to everyone who was upset with me. I hope you enjoyed this quickly-assembled one better.**


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